


Strive

by wolfraven80



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action, Appearances by Hilda, Appearances by Lysithea & Yuri & Ingrid, Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, appearances by all the Black Eagles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23830252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfraven80/pseuds/wolfraven80
Summary: After the war Edelgard and Byleth work to hold together a fractious Fódlan while preparing to take on those who slither in the dark. But Byleth no longer has the power of the goddess to keep her friends and allies safe and Lord Arundel and his allies have plans of their own.Chapter 18: Byleth struggles with the weight of her discoveries about Rhea and the children of the goddess.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 103
Kudos: 250





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, please assume that everyone who could be spared was.

_We are not now that strength which in old days_

_Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;_

_One equal temper of heroic hearts,_

_Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will_

_To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield._

_Tennyson – “Ulysses”_

* * *

The world was fire. The air around Byleth rippled with searing heat, baking her alive, drinking the moisture from her skin. The air in her lungs choked her with ash, suffocating her where she stood. She could see nothing but flames, their lurid orange glow surrounding her, closing in, engulfing her. There was no escape, no help. The Sword of the Creator, gripped in her hands, remained lifeless. It no longer flared to life for her—she was no longer the bearer of the Crest of Flames. It was only a sword, just as she was only a human.

The roar of flames was like the bellowing voice of the Immaculate One. As soon as the thought entered her mind, there she was: Rhea. The Immaculate One’s massive shape rose out of the inferno, looming over Byleth, eyes ablaze. When her jaws opened, her voice was the grating of metal of metal. "Is this the world you wanted?"

Her words were a blast of searing heat, worse than the flames, charring Byleth's very bones. Rhea spoke again. "Is this the world you wanted to create?" There was nothing left of Byleth but ash and cinders. She was a smouldering ruin at the feet of the Immaculate One.

The flames died. Cool darkness settled over her. Out of the endless black, a figure stepped forward, her flowing robes like the night sky, her locks the vibrant green of spring foliage. Sothis stood over her, no longer chiding or impatient. Her voice was soft as she asked, "Is this the world you wanted to create?"

There was nothing left of Byleth. No more flames. No more power. But from the void of her self she answered, "Yes."

#

Byleth jolted upright in bed, hand pressed against her chest where her heart hammered her rib cage with such force that it seemed determined to escape. Could that happen? Could your heart really beat out of your chest? Could it race itself to death like a horse pushed to the brink of exhaustion?

She forced herself to take deep breaths, to quell the horror of the dream and the fear of the strange, unfamiliar thing pulsing in her chest.

The sheets were tangled around her limbs, her clothes, sweat-soaked. Air, she needed air.

Some minutes later she was walking the echoing halls of Enbarr's imperial palace, empty at this hour but for a few scattered guards who gave curt nods as she passed them. It was only when she reached the gardens and drew in a deep breath of cool night air that the lingering aura of the nightmare finally began to lose its grip on her. A gibbous moon bathed the gardens in a soft glow and Byleth let her feet lead her down the cobbled path that was Edelgard's favourite, the one that, in the spring, would be lined with carnations. Now there was only the drooping branches of willows and the bare branches of the oleander bushes, tapping at her shoulders as she passed.

When a lithe figure stepped onto the path ahead of her, Byleth froze in her tracks. The moonlight transformed Edelgard into something ethereal, her pale hair loose around her shoulders like a veil, her normally scarlet garb replaced by a plain white shirt and dark trousers that made her seem to float among the shadows cast by the weeping willows. Byleth's breath caught in her throat. Her hand flew to her chest: her heart was racing again.

Edelgard turned and in an instant her expression shifted from surprise to pleasure. "My teacher," she said as she moved to join Byleth. She took one of her hands and held it in both of hers, smiling. Byleth's eyes flitted to the ring on her left hand, the ring Jeralt had left her, its stone the same shade as Edelgard's violet eyes. "What are you doing out at this hour?"

"I needed some air. I had… an unpleasant dream."

Edelgard's eyebrows shot up. "I've never known you to have nightmares."

Byleth shook her head. "It's new to me. I used to dream but… I was never disturbed by the contents of my dreams. There were never any emotions attached to them."

Edelgard's squeezed her hand. She knew what Rhea had done to Byleth—she knew everything, all of Byleth's secrets. All her life Byleth had been only a vessel, implanted with a crest stone and made to be at once superhuman and less than human. Now she was somewhere in the middle. And she felt things as she never had before. "And yet," Edelgard said, "you were so understanding when you heard about my nightmares all those years ago."

"I understood the concept," Byleth said with a shrug. "It's just that… well… the actual experience is rather different, isn't it?"

A dry laugh escaped Edelgard. "Yes. Very much so. Would it help to tell me your dream?"

"No, I'm fine now. What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep. There's too much to think about, too much that still needs to be done. And tomorrow…"

The meeting was tomorrow. The first move in the chess match that would be their dealings with those who slither in the dark. Edelgard didn't dare speak of it aloud but Byleth understood that was surely what weighed on her so heavily this night.

Byleth brought Edelgard's hand to her lips. "We'll see this through. Together."

Edelgard tilted her face up, her voice soft, "Byleth," she whispered. And Byleth felt that heart—that heart that had been a stranger to her all these years—begin to race again. She cupped Edelgard's face in her hands and gently brought their lips together.

This, too, was new to her. The warmth of Edelgard's mouth; the insistent way her fingers tugged at Byleth's collar, drawing her closer; the way her skin tingled at her touch. All of it was new and wonderful and overwhelming. She was never certain what to do with her hands—she wanted to tangle her fingers in Edelgard's silvery hair, to run her fingertips over the soft skin of her cheeks and neck, to rest her hands on Edelgard's hips and pull her close against her, closer still—all of these things at once.

Edelgard drew back, cheeks flushed, breathing heavily. "The guards. They make the rounds here."

Byleth licked her lips, trying to clear her thoughts which had gotten unusually fuzzy. Her strange new heartbeat was pounding and she ached to be close to Edelgard again. "You think it would surprise them to see us together?"

Edelgard looked down. "Professor, you must understand, I'm the emperor and the guards will gossip."

Byleth stepped closer to whisper in Edelgard's ear. "We can use that to our advantage. It will work in our favour if Lord Arundel's spies report that you're distracted. They'll underestimate you."

"You don't really think he'd fall for that, do you?" Edelgard said, tone incredulous even as she kept her voice low.

"He's disdainful of humans isn't he? He sees us as beasts and his forces as superior beings." She shook her head. "He doesn't understand human emotions." Once upon a time, neither had she, not really. She had observed emotions with hollow detachment. The Ashen Demon. Nothing but the goddess's vessel waiting to be filled with her essence. But things were different now. Sothis had left her her free will, allowed her to choose her path, allowed her to free herself from the crest stone that had stilled her heart.

Edelgard bowed her head. "He understands them well enough to know how to pit people against each other."

Reaching out, Byleth let her fingers trail across Edelgard's cheek. "But he doesn't understand how the bonds between people can make them stronger. He'll believe our allies to be fickle because his are, and our feelings to be distractions because that's all they are to him."

Edelgard considered the matter for a minute but then nodded slowly. "You may be right. My uncle has always excelled at rending bonds rather than forging them."

The caress of moonbeams made Edelgard look pale and slight, giving no hint at her inhuman strength and her steely will. She had never faltered, not during the years at the academy when she'd been forced to deceive her friends and allies, not during the five years when Byleth had been sleeping, not at Grondor. Byleth no longer had that monstrous strength so she could only try to match her in determination. She, too, wanted to see Edelgard's vision for a better world become a reality. She wanted Fódlan to be free of the inhuman forces that had been manipulating its fate for the past millennium and more.

Byleth cupped Edelgard's face in her hands and she could hear the quaver in her voice as she spoke. "I'm not what I was, I'm not—" She faltered, shook her head. "But I'll see this through with you." Even words seemed to cut into her now. Everything was too sharp, too bright, too much. But she wanted it all anyway if that was what it meant to be human. "I love you," she said, staring into Edelgard's eyes. "More than anyone. More than—" Her voice broke on the words. Her hands were shaking. Her pulse, heartbeat, her thoughts—everything was racing, everything was unsteady.

Edelgard must have noticed, for she wrapped her arms around Byleth and held on tight. And when Byleth was steady once again, Edelgard kissed her without a worry about who might be watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short opening, I know, but I have a few chapters done already so I'll post again soon and chapter two is quite a bit longer. Based on my outline and what I've got done so far this fic is looking to be a long one. Please let me know what you think and keep an eye out for updates. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War councils and wedding plans. And also tea. Edelgard and Byleth reveal their plans to move against those who slither in the dark.

The plush chairs in Edelgard's parlour were all filled. Between them, side tables bore tiered platters heaped with spice cake, jam-filled cookies, and almond fritters, alongside pots of still-steaming tea. Thick brocaded curtains and a crackling hearth fire kept the winter chill at bay. As the outermost chamber of Edelgard's suite of rooms, the parlour was a cozy, informal place in which to host guests.

And an unusual setting for a war council.

Byleth scanned the room, taking in the sight of her former students, her closest allies. Dorothea and Petra had pulled their chairs together and were chatting amiably, Dorothea's laugh flitting through the air like birdsong. Bernadetta had tucked herself behind the two of them and was nibbling a piece of cake. Linhardt's head had lolled forward only moments after he'd taken his seat, while a crumb-covered Caspar nudged him awake between bites of fritter. Ferdinand, who had just returned from a visit to his territory, sat, spine straight, legs crossed at the knee, sipping his tea like a perfect gentleman. Hubert had refused tea and was scowling—or scowling more than usual—but then he already knew this meeting was not about the upcoming wedding, which was what Edelgard had told the rest of them.

The scent of bergamot wafted up from Edelgard's tea cup as she sipped and then placed the cup down on its saucer. "Thank you all for coming," she said with such perfect calm that no one would ever guess at the nerves that had kept her walking in the gardens late last night.

"Of course we came!" Dorothea's smile was radiant as she clasped her hands together. "Are you finally making the official announcement about the wedding? I can't wait to see what an imperial wedding looks like."

Edelgard darted an unhappy look at Byleth before she replied. "Not precisely. We _will_ be making the announcement soon, but I've asked you here to discuss Lord Arundel." A hush fell over the Black Eagles. They all knew of the uneasy alliance between Edelgard and her uncle, the former imperial regent, and of his alternate identity as Thales.

Ferdinand set down his teacup and, if possible, sat up even straighter. "We all knew this time would come. And better sooner than later. We must strike while the iron is hot."

"Yeah!" Caspar chimed in, punching his fist into his open palm. "So what are we waiting for? Let's take the fight to him!"

Ferdinand shook his head. "He is an Adrestian noble. We must expose his crimes before we simply attack him otherwise we risk further destabilizing the empire."

"We'd be risking more than that," Byleth said. "We'd be risking all of Enbarr."

Linhardt had perked up at Byleth's words and was finally wide awake. "What do you mean by that exactly?"

Byleth glanced at Edelgard but the emperor remained impassive. She loathed Arundel and his allies, but she had long since learned to mask her hatred for them. She had wrapped her loathing into a tight ball and stuffed it away in some dark corner of her heart where she hid so many of her emotions. Byleth saw flashes of it sometimes but nothing more.

Edelgard let out a long breath. "For the safety of all of Adrestia it's essential that what I'm about to tell you not leave this room." She paused to look each of them in the eye. "A few of you already know this… The javelins of light that destroyed Arianrhod were not the Church's doing as we allowed everyone to believe. They were the work of Lord Arundel and his allies, a punishment for our removal of Cornelia."

The room went quite still except for the rustling of fabric as Bernadetta curled her knees up against her chest and hugged them tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she wished this were a nightmare she could wake herself from.

Linhardt was the first to speak, his eyes bright with the kind of eagerness he normally reserved for his crest research. "How much can you tell us about these javelins? People have been claiming they were the goddess's wrath, much like the legend of Ailell, the Valley of Torment."

Hubert shook his head. "It seems to be some form of advanced magic. We know little more than that."

"I do not have understanding," Petra said, brow furrowed. "If Lord Arundel is having such power and wished to kill Rhea, why did he not simply destruct Garreg Mach with these javelins?"

"A fair point," Hubert said. "Which is why we must assume that something about Garreg Mach itself—perhaps its location or its unusual construction—prevents Lord Arundel from attacking it directly."

"The same cannot be said for the rest of Adrestia," Edelgard noted. Once more she levelled her gaze at the Eagles, one by one. "If we threaten Lord Arundel directly he will not hesitate to destroy Enbarr as he's already threatened to do."

Bernadetta emitted a high pitch squeak. "Maybe we could just… go back to Garreg Mach."

Byleth smiled at her. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? But we can't abandon everyone in Enbarr. We couldn't save Arianrhod but it's going to be different this time."

In spite of looking suddenly pale, Dorothea's voice was steady. "You have a plan?"

Edelgard glanced at Hubert and nodded to him. He gave a little bow of his head before turning to the rest of the Eagles. "When Arianrhod was attacked, I was able to track their magic back to its source. It lies in Hrym on the border of former Alliance territory."

"All right!" Caspar leaped to his feet. "Then what are we waiting for? We ride over there and cut off the head of the snake."

Linhardt shot him a scathing look. "And you don't think he might send those javelins our way if he saw an army marching on his home base?"

Deflated, Caspar sank back into his chair. "Yeah well… we could… travel at night?"

"Lord Arundel's actions are an abomination," Ferdinand announced. His jaw was set and he looked ready to challenge someone to a duel. "Edelgard, would he really destroy an entire city just to unseat you?"

"He would," Edelgard said with a curt nod. "And it would hardly be the worst thing he's done."

Edelgard's alliance with Thales and his forces had been an unsavoury one to say the least. Byleth hadn't been around to see how the others had settled into the full knowledge of it, the realization that following Edelgard meant working alongside the people responsible for a litany of hideous acts: experimenting on children; murdering and replacing people in positions of power to acquire their identities; the destruction of Remire; the assassination of King Lambert. War made for strange and unpleasant bedfellows. Edelgard had told her how they had, at first, found it difficult to accept such moral compromise. Ferdinand had found it hardest of all—working with villains went against all he believed. She had had to convince him that his role as a noble was to be the protector of the people and that, ultimately, it was by freeing them from the Church's manipulation that they would be able to save the people of Fódlan.

Ferdinand sighed. "We cannot allow the people on Enbarr to be sacrificed. What do you suggest we do?"

"We're planning to use the wedding as a distraction," Byleth said. While everyone stared at her, she took a bite of a raspberry-jam cookie and munched on it serenely.

Dorothea appeared horrified, clutching her hands to her chest. "But it's your wedding!"

Byleth blinked. And then she set down her cookie. "It's just a ceremony."

Hubert glanced from the professor to Edelgard. "Lady Edelgard, you did inform the professor of how elaborate an imperial wedding is?"

Edelgard sighed. "Of course I did."

"That's part of the plan," Byleth said and sipped her tea. "The preparations will be elaborate and require Edelgard's attention. She'll have to meet with people and make arrangements for supplies and staff and décor and—" she waved a hand vaguely, "whatever else people need for an imperial wedding. The more occupied she is with these preparations the less likely Arundel will be to suspect she's raising forces to act against him. That's why we had the staff bring tea and dessert for this meeting—so it would seem more like wedding preparations instead of a war council."

Byleth sipped her tea again before going on, ignoring the incredulous looks from her friends. "Edelgard will have to invite representatives from all the territories of the empire. With all the leaders of Fódlan assembled in one place Arundel will likely decide it's the optimal time to strike. So we have to use the wedding preparations as cover to move our forces into Hrym territory so we can attack him just before the wedding. Also, if anyone declines the invitation or fails to show up we'll have a good indication that they may be among Arundel's agents."

"I am liking this plan," Petra announced, nodding vigorously. "You will be like the hunter who is luring the prey into the opening."

"Thank you, Petra," Edelgard said with a nod. "Your support—all of you—will be essential if we're to succeed. This plan isn't without risk. Arundel may act against us less directly and sooner. We must be certain we move our forces piecemeal towards their base so they don't suspect. We'll need to rely on our allies for this. When they travel to Enbarr for the wedding they must come prepared to fight and they must pass through the Alliance in order to cross at the Great Bridge of Myrdon into Hrym territory. That way everyone can converge on Arundel's base and destroy it before he can order the destruction of Enbarr."

"We must also be alert to Arundel's spies," Hubert added. "We can't simply start sending out missives about our intent."

Byleth nodded. "We can only contact our closest, most trusted allies. And we have to do it in person. We can't rely on messages."

Ferdinand tilted his head. "If we all set out on journeys to the far corners of Fódlan, Lord Arundel is certain to suspect something."

"Not if they come to us," Byleth said.

Dorothea must have caught on because was grinning now. "The ball!"

Byleth smiled and nodded. "Exactly." The celebration dated back to one of the earliest rulers of the Empire. When the emperor had been injured during a battle with invading forces from Sreng, his wife Hervor had led the Adrestian forces and secured a decisive victory, saving the young Adrestian Empire from ruin. The celebration to mark her victory had become an annual celebration that continued all these centuries later. "Most of our friends will be visiting during the Hervor Ball. We can approach them one by one for their aid."

Edelgard turned to Petra. "I know you need to return home to Brigid soon but I hope when you come for the wedding your escort will just happen to include your finest fighters."

When she replied, Petra's smile was wolfish. "I am thinking that Brigid's warriors would do much learning in a visit to Fódlan. For the wedding." But then her gaze flickered to Dorothea. "Are you still wishing to come?"

Dorothea drew herself up and gave a toss of her hair. "Of course I'm coming. Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

Petra tilted her head and peered at her. "Should you not be riding the horses?"

Edelgard cleared her throat to draw their attention back to the matter at hand. "We will need the Black Eagle Strike Force now more than ever. Can I count on your support?"

"Yeah!" Caspar announced pumping his fist in the air while Bernadetta assented with a squeaky, "Yes," and Linhardt yawned and a muttered "I guess so." The others agreed as well and, with the plan settled, the council was deemed complete.

"Ferdinand," Edelgard called before he reached the door. "One moment please." She retrieved a sheaf of paper from a desk on the far side of the room and held it out to him. "This is my first draft of the document we've been discussing. I hope you'll find the time to read it and return it to me with your comments."

"I'd be glad to!" he announced, positively beaming.

It wasn't until some while later when even Hubert had left after much discussion regarding the minutiae of the plan, that Byleth asked about the papers. "Are those your proposed reforms? I didn't think you'd had time to work on them."

Edelgard's shoulders slumped as she finally allowed the fatigue of another sleepless night to show. "A little here and there. When I can't sleep." Byleth cocked an eyebrow. "I know we must stay focussed on my uncle for now, but this is important as well. We've created a vacuum of power across the continent and if I fill it myself then nothing will have changed. I did all this to rid the world of crests and I won't rest until I've achieved that."

Byleth moved to stand in front of her and held Edelgard's face in her hands. "You mean you won't _stop_. But you do have to rest."

"Yes, my teacher." The tiny smile on Edelgard's lips warmed Byleth's newly-beating heart. "But in the meantime, I’d like to show you something." She took one of Byleth's hands in hers and led her back into the private rooms behind the parlour. The first was a small living space full of comfortable chairs and a divan, but clearly meant for personal use rather than entertaining. Attached to it were an office and Edelgard's bedchambers. But something was different than when she'd last been here a few days ago.

Byleth's brow furrowed as she stared at the set of double doors on the righthand wall. "Wasn't there a bookcase there before?" She was certain she'd have remembered extra doors.

Edelgard nodded. "This is what I wanted to show you." She pushed open the doors to reveal another sitting room, almost a mirror to the one they stood in. "These are your rooms."

For a beat Byleth just stared at Edelgard in puzzlement. "I don't understand."

"As imperial consort you'll have your own suite of rooms. Come and see. They're much like mine." She stepped through the doorway and walked to the centre of the sitting room.

Reluctantly, Byleth followed, taking in the three additional doors (two at the back, one at the front) that mirrored the ones in Edelgard's suite. While Edelgard's rooms had a lived-in feeling thanks to a book resting on side table and a sketch pad resting on a chair, this room felt more like one in the guest wing. There were no personal touches. Everything was clean and precisely in place, the work of the palace cleaning staff.

Edelgard gave an approving nod as she surveyed the room. "I asked the staff to freshen up everything. It's been a long time since the suite was used." She took Byleth's hand again and showed her a study with tall bookcases and a large oak desk, and then brought her to the other door and pushed it open to reveal a bedroom with a wide four-poster bed and generous armoires. She did not step in but hovered there on the threshold.

Everything about the suite was ostentatious even by the palace's standards—intricately carved wood, thick patterned rugs, colourful tapestries draped the walls, brocaded curtains, and soft sheets in vibrant imperial red. It was clearly a monarch's rooms. "I still don't understand," Byleth said shaking her head.

Sighing, Edelgard took both of Byleth's hands in hers. "Professor, you must understand, emperors usually marry for political gain. Such arrangements do not necessitate that the couple enjoys spending time together so the consort always has their own rooms adjoining the emperor's."

Byleth's hands tightened around Edelgard's fingers. "That's not what I want," she said urgently, her gut twisting. It wasn't enough. She wanted more than to see Edelgard at state functions and shared meals. She wanted all those little moments in between: the first taste of mornings when you blinked into a dusky dawn, the comfortable silences in a shared space, the monotony of daily tasks, of the washing and dressing and preparing before stepping together into the public world. "I want to be close to you," she said, tugging her closer and pinning her with her gaze, wishing she could somehow convey this mess of emotion that was so overwhelming to her and so new. "I want to wake up with you and— And…" She shook her head.

"I want that too," Edelgard said forcefully and then kissed Byleth hard. Edelgard pressed herself against her, and Byleth's arms sprang up to encircle her and pull her in as tightly as she could, as if they could melt into each other and occupy the same space, breathe the same air.

And for some moments Byleth couldn't tell whose heartbeat was whose.

When they broke apart, Edelgard was flushed and breathing heavily. She glanced away for a moment, tugging at the fabric of her dress to straighten it. "In any case, these rooms are yours and you can use them however you please, but you certainly don't have to sleep here. You can—that is, we—" She cleared her throat. "But you might want to make use of the study and you do have your own wardrobe here."

Byleth licked her lips and took a moment to remember how to talk. "That's useful then."

Edelgard sighed. "We should go. We have that dinner engagement with the ministers."

"Right."

"And…" Edelgard's expression darkened and it was like watching storm clouds blot out the sun.

"What is it?" Byleth said gently.

"Tomorrow I'd like to go visit my siblings."

The words were like a sudden frost. "Your siblings," Byleth repeated. Edelgard had once had ten. But only she had survived the blood reconstruction surgery.

"They're buried in the Imperial tombs, a short carriage ride out of Enbarr. I try to go once a year to leave flowers. Will you come?"

"Of course I'll come." She took Edelgard's hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll always choose to be at your side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good long chapter this time and appearances by all the Eagles. I hope you enjoyed it and please drop me a note to let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Edelgard and Byleth set out to visit the imperial tombs , Lysithea arrives with pressing news.

They waited together in silence in one of the staterooms, currently empty of officials. Edelgard stared out a tall window that had a view of one of the gardens, and Byleth left her to her thoughts. The sky had grown overcast as it often did in Enbarr during the winter months, not cold enough for snow but prone to days on end of gloomy damp. They had donned scarves and overcoats in preparation for their errand but Byleth dearly hoped the drizzle would hold off until they'd returned.

"Lady Edelgard." They turned at the familiar timbre of Hubert's voice. "The carriage is ready and the Imperial Guard is well prepared. I inspected everything myself. We can depart at your earliest convenience."

When Edelgard turned, her expression was impassive, as calm and blank as everyone had always said Byleth's features had been. She had donned her mask. "Thank you, Hubert."

Byleth rose and was about to ask Edelgard if she was ready, when a footman knocked on the door. "Your Majesty, there's a guest here to see you. Lady Lysithea von Ordelia. Shall I see her in?"

"Yes, of course," Edelgard replied her expression lightening fractionally. A minute later, Lysithea strode into room with an air of determination that had grown familiar to Byleth during the war. A smile, small but very much sincere, graced Edelgard's features. "Lysithea, it's so good to see you. You look well."

"I am," Lysithea replied with a nod. "But I have an urgent matter to—" She broke off and then glanced at Byleth and Hubert. "Oh, are you heading out?"

"We were about to. You can come along if you don't mind discussing this urgent matter with Hubert and the professor."

Lysithea nodded. "That would be fine. They need to hear this as well."

Byleth glanced at Edelgard, eyebrows raised. "Are you… sure?"

"It’s fine. Shall we go?"

They proceeded in silence. A silence that persisted until they were all settled in the carriage and had left the palace grounds. Lysithea, seated next to Hubert and across from Byleth, gave them all a puzzled once-over before asking, "Where are we going precisely?"

"To the Imperial tombs," Hubert offered with utter nonchalance.

"To visit the graves of Edelgard's siblings," Byleth added.

The colour drained from Lysithea's face. "I see." She darted a glance at Edelgard whose gaze was directed out the carriage window. "I… I had heard that the Imperial family was decimated by a virulent fever, but that's not the case, is it?"

"No," Edelgard replied, her voice as chill as the winter air. "That was only the story Lord Arundel had circulated."

Head slightly tilted and propped up on her fist, Lysithea considered the matter. The pose was so familiar to Byleth that she might have smiled had the circumstances been less gloomy. She wanted to reach out to Edelgard, to comfort her, but she seemed at a remove from her today, the closeness they'd shared yesterday in the heat of that kiss, now whisked away by the chill air.

"So it's true then," Lysithea said finally. "After they left House Ordelia, those mages came to the Enbarr and performed the blood reconstruction surgery on the Hresvelg heirs." She shook her head in disbelief. "Couldn't the emperor prevent it? Surely he wasn't party to experiments being performed on his own family."

Edelgard let out a long breath. "He was powerless to stop to it."

"These… events… occurred after the Insurrection of the Seven," Hubert added with a grimace. His own father had been part of the insurrection and he had never forgiven him for that betrayal. "We were all powerless."

It was one of those rare moments when Byleth felt quite keenly how different her life had been from many of her friends'. Even Lysithea's family had unwittingly become tangled up in the Insurrection of the Seven and the machinations of the Imperial Houses and those who slither in the dark. Yet all the while Byleth had been learning to wield blades and notch arrows. While they'd been suffering losses and torments that had shaped their characters and their ambitions she'd been wandering the continent with Jeralt, barely aware of her own existence, all but immune to suffering and to heartache. After all how could her heart have ached when it wasn't even beating?

"I see," Lysithea said. "Then what I have to tell you all is even more vital."

Straightening, Edelgard turned from the window and looked directly at Lysithea. "We're listening."

"I've been tracking a pair of mages that I believe are among those who performed experiments on the Ordelia family. I first heard reports of them in Deirdru and I tracked them down to Enbarr." She paused for a beat as if considering her next words. "You all know of course about the strain a second crest places on the body, on how it decreases lifespan."

There was an uneasy silence and Byleth was suddenly aware that while she knew of Lysithea's shortened lifespan, Edelgard had never spoken of whether hers had been affected.

"Go on," Edelgard said without meeting Byleth's questioning look.

"I've been working with both Hanneman and Linhardt to find ways to remove my crests. But it would be very helpful if we could get information about the original process from the mages who performed the procedures in the first place. The latest information I received is that they were headed to Enbarr."

Hubert stroked his chin. "That's certainly concerning given that we've had no word of any of Lord Arundel's forces being stationed within the city."

"He's setting up his pieces," Byleth said.

"As are we," Edelgard's said, voice flinty. She was not El now, but the Emperor of Adrestia, the woman who had defied the Church to change Fódlan's fate.

"Is that so?" Lysithea peered at her, head tilted.

Edelgard turned to Hubert. "When we arrive could you please explain the plan to Lysithea and how she can assist?"

He gave a little bow of his head. "Of course, Lady Edelgard."

"What about me?" Byleth said softly.

Edelgard's eyes softened as she finally met Byleth's gaze. "I'd like you to walk with me."

#

Though the rain had held off, the air was thick with moisture that made the chill sink into Byleth's bones. She shivered as they walked the stone-paved path towards the Imperial tombs. Since losing the Crest of Flames she was often beset by cold.

Next to her, Edelgard carried an armful of dark, almost purplish, roses, one for every sibling. She kept her gaze forward and her expression calm, a perfect blank mask. She seemed to know her way and Byleth walked silently alongside her past smaller monuments until she turned down a path towards a larger stone edifice surrounded by a cluster of smaller ones. The main building was the size of a small house with a domed roof and elaborate scrollwork on every edge and corner, as if stony tendrils of vine were slowly embracing the sepulchre. Edelgard paused at its front doorway only long enough to lay down a single rose. "This is where my father is interred," she explained. Then she turned and waved towards the other tombs, each similar in shape but smaller, only eight or nine feet across. "And these are the tombs of my siblings."

She took a breath and approached the nearest one. Byleth followed a step behind, noting the inscription carved into the stone which offered the entire lineage of Sigurna von Hresvelg. "My eldest sister," Edelgard said, bending to set down a rose at the foot of the tomb. "She used to scold me for running through the halls, but she also healed my scrapes when I tripped and fell."

She stood and moved to the next tomb. "Aigil, one of the children of my father's wife. He spent most of his time wrangling his other brothers, trying to keep the peace. " She set down his rose and moved on to the next one.

"Lódur. The youngest." She knelt and carefully placed the rose. And then, her voice barely more than a whisper, "He was so small, Byleth." Byleth dropped down next to her so they were shoulder to shoulder but only barely touching. She offered her presence, her support but knew Edelgard well enough to know not to tread onto the fragile ground where her grief lay buried. She remembered how, when Jeralt had died, Edelgard had called her to action rather than offering comfort, and Byleth didn't think she would welcome comfort now. The earth sucked the heat from her limbs and made gooseflesh rise on her skin, but she remained still and sat with Edelgard and waited. And Edelgard did not cry but her breath came unevenly and her features contorted into a grimace.

Byleth leaned closer and let her shoulder press against Edelgard's and took deep, slow breaths, letting the rhythm of her lungs rock her body ever so slightly. She did this until after a while Edelgard's breaths had matched her own and swayed with the same steady rhythm. When she looked up at Byleth she was calm again. "Thank you, my teacher."

They stood and Edelgard made her way to each tomb setting down a rose at every one. Byleth noted the dates on the tombs: they had all died within a year of each other.

When she had placed the final rose, Edelgard let out a long breath. Her gaze swept over the tombs of her family. "Your deaths were not in vain. And I promise you, those responsible for your suffering will not go unpunished." When she turned to Byleth, her eyes were full of the fierce determination Byleth had so admired during the war. "I'm ready."

Byleth gave a curt nod but then, after a moment's hesitation, offered her hand. Edelgard took it in hers and, interlacing their fingers, squeezed it tight all the way back to the carriage.

#

The trip back was filled with Lysithea's questions about the plan. They did their best to answer while also making it clear that they were at the initial stages and wouldn't be in contact with many of the others until the Hervor Ball. They were rolling down the streets of Enbarr, the palace within view when, finally, she gave a satisfied nod. "All right. But I want to be there when you fight them. I'm going to make sure they never hurt anyone again."

"You will be," Byleth assured.

"And now that that's settled," Edelgard said, her voice regaining its usual warmth, "why don't you join us for tea? I think the kitchens will have some of that ginger cake you like."

Lysithea crossed her arms. "You don't need to offer me cake every time you see me," she announced. But then, glancing away, added, "Though if there happens to be some already…"

Byleth smiled. "There's always cake at the palace."

"Indeed," Hubert deadpanned. "With all the crest-bearing inhabitants of the palace it would be quite dangerous for the kitchen to run out."

"Are you making fun of me?" Lysithea demanded, turning to glare at him.

"I think," Edelgard said, one eyebrow raised, "that he's making fun of _me_."

Hubert's expression was as inscrutable as ever. "Never, Lady Edelgard."

The carriage rolled through the palace gates down the main driveway where it would deposit them at the palace entrance, and finally Byleth could feel that morning's tension draining away. She even dared to let her hand brush up against Edelgard's, and smiled when she felt Edelgard give her fingers a quick squeeze.

The driver slowed and then halted the horses right before the steps leading up to the palace's grand entrance. Byleth hopped out of her side of the carriage and circled around as Hubert handed Edelgard out on their side. She moved to join them but then paused as movement caught her eye off to her right.

Byleth registered the flit of something slicing the air ahead of her a mere second before Edelgard screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who've stopped in to leave reviews-- it's really good to know someone is reading this and enjoying the story so far. Sorry about the cliffhanger but it's not a real adventure if there isn't mortal danger at some point, right? ;) More in a week or so...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An assassination attempt

**Four**

Byleth's eyes fixed on the bolt jutting out of Edelgard's chest, noting the two leather fletches, her mind calculating as her body acted. "Crossbow!" she yelled as she pulled Edelgard to the ground with her. They crashed to the paving stones and Byleth scrambled to throw herself bodily over the emperor.

Instinctually, she reached for the threads of time, ready to use Divine Pulse if she needed to. But there was nothing there. Time was intangible. The lurch of her heart reminded her of what she had given up. She was only human now. She could no longer turn back the hands of time to save those she loved.

There was nothing she could do. Nothing except shield Edelgard.

Her heart throbbed so hard she thought it would shatter her ribs. It took half a minute to load a crossbow. How many seconds had ticked by already? Fifteen? Twenty? She couldn't keep count over the pounding blood in her ears.

Someone was shouting. She couldn't make out the words. Her vision had narrowed but she saw Hubert racing away from them. The purple flare of a spell rose from his palms.

She never saw the second bolt.

White fire lanced through her right arm. She let out a hiss of pain but then gritted her teeth and turned her attention to Edelgard.

Her face, inches away from Byleth's, was drained of colour, her skin almost as pale a her hair. But her eyes were open and her expression lucid as she stared up at Byleth. And for a beat that gaze held Byleth in place so she could not look away from those violet eyes. She murmured something reassuring—or tried to—she wasn't sure if the words actually came out; she couldn't hear anything over the staccato pulse in her ears.

Edelgard's breath came in shallow pants and Byleth's eyes darted to the wound. The bolt was buried almost to the fletching below her clavicle on the right side. There was hardly any blood but the line of her collar bone looked… wrong. Crossbows were made to pierce armour; they could shatter bone on impact.

She reared up as something clamped down on her shoulder. Lysithea stumbled back, eyes wide. "It's me, Professor! We need to get Edelgard into the palace. Now!"

Byleth nodded and without further hesitation she hoisted Edelgard up off the ground. A moan escaped her and her face was contorted with pain before she pressed her lips together and clamped her jaw tight. "It's all right," Byleth said. "The wound's not bad but the force shattered your collar bone I think."

"This is nothing…" Edelgard gasped, "compared to… what I've already endured."

Byleth took the steps two at a time, racing towards the palace entrance. A pair of guards had already thrown open the doors and several more were racing down the steps. She tore past them. Past the staff who had gathered to watch in horror as Byleth carried the emperor in her arms. Past familiar faces frozen in expressions of shock. Past the guards who tried to stop her and then fell away with wide-eyed stares. She didn't stop until she reached the infirmary.

She called for a healer between her panting breaths. The healer who approached her first paled as she took in the sight of them. She spun and called to someone behind her. "It's the emperor! Fetch Lady Amalthia immediately." And then, turning to Byleth, "Set her down here," and led her to an examination table.

Edelgard didn't make a sound as Byleth lay her down on the table, and only grimaced, though a sheen of sweat beaded her forehead. As the healer began examining the wound, Byleth gripped Edelgard's left hand. "You're going to be all right," she said, voice hoarse, as she reached out to touch Edelgard's pallid face.

The healer had reached for a pair of scissors and begun cutting into the fabric of Edelgard's coat and dress to clear the clothing from the protruding crossbow bolt. Edelgard's hand spasmed around Byleth's fingers with such force that Byleth winced.

"I don't understand," the healer said once she'd revealed the wound, inspecting it with a puzzled frown. A trickle of blood oozed from around the bolt, which was typical. In Byleth's experience, such bolts often did more impact damage but tore through the flesh less than an arrow would. "Where is all this blood coming from?"

"Blood?" Byleth repeated, confused.

The healer straightened and scanned Byleth up and down. "Your arm," she said.

Byleth glanced down and finally noticed the blood soaking through the right side of her coat. She shook her head. "It's just a graze. Please, take care of Edelgard."

Before the healer could argue, Lady Amalthia, Edelgard's personal physician, arrived. She took in the situation at a glance and ordered the other healers to prepare the surgical room. They could use magic to help repair the damage to Edelgard's shattered bones, but the bolt would have to be physically cut out of her flesh. Byleth ignored the flurry of activity around her and remained standing by Edelgard's side, her hand clenched around Byleth's fingers, their gazes locked.

"It's time to go now," Lady Amalthia announced with a note of finality.

Byleth's heart seemed to stutter—unreliable thing that it was. She took a deep breath but found she couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. She wanted to tell Edelgard how much she loved her, how much she wanted that future they'd promised each other when it would be only the two of them, no longer the emperor and the professor, no longer the vessels for the Crest of Flames, but just them. But still she couldn't speak so, instead, she brought Edelgard's fingers to her lips.

When she set down her hand, Edelgard's fingers loosened their grip. But her eyes remained fixed on Byleth's until the healers took her away and Byleth was left staring after her.

A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder and gave her a little shake. "Professor." Byleth turned and stared dumbly at Dorothea. "Come on, Professor, let's get that wound cleaned up."

"It's nothing," Byleth mumbled.

A derisive snort drew Byleth's attention to Lysithea. "The bloodstain on your coat would suggest otherwise."

Divesting herself of her coat and scarf, Byleth raised her arm to inspect it. She found a bloody divot in her right triceps where the second crossbow bolt had grazed her and taken a chunk of flesh with it. As she stared at it, it began to throb in time with her heartbeat. She grimaced. "All right."

Dorothea waived off the other healers and rolled up her sleeves to tend to Byleth herself. "Just like old times," she said with wink.

Lysithea crossed her arms. "If by old times you mean a scant two months ago."

As Dorothea worked, Byleth turned her full attention to Lysithea. "What happened?"

"One man with a crossbow. Hubert took care of him." She paused, nose wrinkling. "Thoroughly. The entire palace guard is up in arms, scouring the grounds for anyone else but it seems like he was alone."

"Who was he?"

Lysithea shook her head. "I don't have any more information."

The throbbing in her arm dulled as the warmth of Dorothea's magic tingled over her skin. "I heard Edelgard was hurt and came here to see if they needed help. I didn't expect to have to patch you up, Professor."

"Sorry," Byleth murmured. Her fingers were sticky with her own blood and her whole body was beginning to feel heavy.

"Don't apologize," Dorothea chided. "I hear you were very heroic, sweeping the emperor off her feet and shielding her with your body. Very operatic."

A faint smile curved Byleth's lips. "I'm afraid there wasn't any signing."

Dorothea chuckled. She'd just finished cleaning and bandaging the wound when Hubert arrived, looking grim. "Where is she?" No one needed to ask who he meant.

"Relax, Hubie," Dorothea said gently. "She's going to be all right."

One of the healers stepped forward. "Lord Vestra," he said with a bow. "The emperor is in surgery under Lady Amalthea's care. The bolt shattered several bones but missed anything vital."

Some of the tightness around his eyes eased and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "Very well. I expect hourly reports on the emperor's condition."

"Yes, milord." Another bow and the healer excused himself as Hubert turned his attention to Byleth and the others.

He scanned Byleth up and down, noting the bandaged arm and gave a curt nod. "Thank you for acting so quickly, Professor. As always, your reflexes are to be commended."

"Hubert…" Byleth could hear the tremor in her voice. She felt raw, like an open wound, and her emotions were pouring out her like blood. "Who was he?"

Hubert shook his head. "The matter is being investigated as we speak. It appears that he may have been a minor noble from the Kingdom. However…" He stepped closer and spoke barely above a whisper. "It's unthinkable that anyone could have gained access to the palace without assistance from inside."

Dorothea licked her lips. "You think it was…"

" _Them_." The word felt like a growl from Lysithea's lips.

"But why like this and why now?" Byleth shook her head. Her thoughts felt sluggish. "There has to be something more to it."

Hubert nodded. "I agree. We'll know more by tomorrow when I've received reports from the palace guards and my own agents. In the meantime I must meet with the other ministers."

"And you," Dorothea said, spinning to face Byleth, "need to rest."

"I can't just—"

Dorothea grasped her shoulders and stared into her face. "Professor, look at yourself. You can't just walk around the Imperial palace looking like you just came off the battlefield." Byleth eyes darted down to her shirt which was still damp with blood. "Get cleaned up and rest. I promise you I'll let you know the moment there's news."

Byleth's shoulders slumped. "All right."

But as she left the infirmary, she found Lysithea had fallen into step beside her. "There's still the matter of why I came here."

She realized that Lysithea was being intentionally vague in case they were overheard. Today's events had made it clear that it was no longer safe to speak openly. "Yes. What did you have planned?"

"We can't do anything right now but later we could go into Enbarr and… look around."

Byleth stopped in her tracks. Her mind's eye was filled with the image of Edelgard's face, contorted by pain. And the echo of her words… _what I've already endured_ … That she had known worse agony than shattered bones and pierced flesh… Knowing that those responsible were close-by made heat rise in Byleth's veins, twisting her gut into steely knots. She had been helpless today but she would not be so tonight. "All right then. Tonight," Byleth said with a curt nod.

Tonight they would hunt those who slither in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an interesting time trying to figure out what a crossbow bolt injury would look like. I always wonder what Google thinks of my weird browsing habits when I'm working on a story. -_-
> 
> As always I so appreciate the kudos and everyone who's taken the time to leave a review. I'm starting to catch up to what I've already written ahead for this fic so the extra motivation of knowing people are actually reading it certainly doesn't hurt. Thanks again!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nighttime visit to the home of the silther mages begins to reveal some of their secrets.

Draped in dark, hooded coats and huddled in the shadows, Byleth and Lysithea could easily have been mistaken for thieves. Though tonight that mistake wouldn't have been altogether inaccurate.

In the dead of night, Enbarr was almost unrecognisable, its streets still and quiet under the blanket of darkness. They had had to be wary of the night watchmen who patrolled this wealthy merchants' quarter. There would be too many questions if one of them discovered a pair of the emperor's generals skulking like common rogues.

They'd tucked themselves into the arched doorway of a building across from the house they were watching. The two-storey building itself was a mix of stone and timber framing with a peaked roof, clearly owned by well-to-do merchants but nothing remarkable for this part of the city. It had been nearly an hour since they'd last spotted a flicker of candlelight dancing behind its shuttered windows. Soon it would be time to act.

A gust of cold wind whipped around them and Byleth could hear Lysithea's teeth chatter. "Not much longer," she assured her.

Action would be a relief to Byleth as well. She'd found it unusually difficult to focus tonight. Her thoughts kept turning again and again back to Edelgard. The healers were keeping her sedated. Her collar bone had been badly shattered and she needed to stay completely still for the magic to knit the fragments back together as quickly as possible. Seeing her lying there had been almost too much for Byleth. She'd been so pale and her unnatural stillness somehow made her look small and frail, like a porcelain doll that could break into a thousand pieces at the merest touch.

Lysithea's voice pulled Byleth back to herself. "Professor, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Hmm?" She needed to focus. Edelgard would recover. Yet whenever Byleth recalled the image of the bolt jutting from her chest, her pallid skin, and her own inability to do anything, to go back and correct mistakes as she once had… Her insides felt as frigid as if she'd jumped headfirst into Garreg Mach's pond in the depths of Guardian Moon.

"I've heard that you no longer have a crest. Is it true?"

Byleth glanced over at Lysithea, her face shadowed by the hood of her coat. "It's true."

"You know that I'm trying to find a way to remove my crests. If the loss of your crest could shed any light on how that could be accomplished it would be incredibly useful."

Byleth shook her head. "I don't think I can be of much help. My case is… unique."

"How so?"

"I…" Byleth's lips thinned to a line. The more she'd come to understand herself—what she'd been, what she'd been meant to be—the more reluctant she'd become to speak of it. Edelgard alone knew all her secrets. As they'd grown closer during the war, she'd shared them bit by bit over the course of weeks and months. But it made her guts churn and her fists clench to think of it. "I wasn't born with a crest. I acquired the Crest of Flames because of something Rhea did." She licked her lips and forced herself to continue. "To me. When I was a baby. When we defeated her I was released from the effects."

"I… see. Professor, I…" Lysithea bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"It's not something I enjoy discussing." Not when the whole of it was so much worse. When it cast doubt on her very humanity. A vessel. A human body made into a receptacle for the goddess's power, for her very soul. She didn't resent Sothis for her presence—after all, once she'd fully awoken, Sothis could have subsumed Byleth's personality if she'd chosen to do so. Which was what Rhea had wanted and why Byleth could never forgive Rhea. Sothis had given Byleth the power to change the course of history as well as the chance to choose her own path. Rhea would never have done so.

Giving herself a shake, Byleth focussed her attention once more on the house across the way. Its windows were dark and the night watchman had strolled past ten minutes ago. It was time to act. She turned to Lysithea and tugged her hood down further around her face.

"Hey!" Lysithea protested. "I'm not a child. You don't need to—"

"Your hair was showing," Byleth replied without looking at her. Her gaze was fixed on the shuttered windows on the first floor. "Let's go."

They slunk across the street and towards the leftmost window, cast in deep shadows. Wind flapped their coats and made the shutters creak, setting Byleth's nerves jangling. Her heart was speeding up again. It had become such a constant companion, such a burden, like a wild horse always bucking and racing. How did everyone endure it all the time?

Drawing in a long, steadying breath, Byleth focussed on the lock that kept the shutters in place and prevented easy access to the house. She pressed her finger to the lock and focussed a tiny shock of magic into the mechanism. A spark. And then the mechanism fell open, its metal innards melted.

Gently, Byleth opened one of the shutters and pulled herself up on the window frame to peer inside. It was difficult to make out anything in the dark but her guess would be that the room was a small parlour. She dropped back down and turned to Lysithea "Looks clear. Let me boost you up to the window."

She was relieved that Lysithea didn't protest this time. She knelt and interlaced her fingers to create a stirrup for Lysithea's foot. When Lysithea stepped into it she hoisted her up to the window and waited for the slim mage to pull herself through the gap. It wasn't as easy at it would have been just a few months ago. Without the Crest of Flames she had only her own muscle and sinew to rely on. And though a lifetime of mercenary work had made her strong and lithe, she was only human now. She had limits.

Once Lysithea had cleared the window, Byleth pulled herself up by the frame and into the house. They padded towards the doorway and into what appeared to be a kitchen. Byleth wasn't certain what they were looking for precisely but she doubted it would be found in the pantry so she moved on towards the door at the far end of the room. She inched it open and the froze. Light. Just a flicker of it.

Byleth held a hand to tell Lysithea to stop. Her ears strained. She could hear Lysithea's soft puffs of breath but nothing beyond the door. But then why the light?

She counted the beats of her over-loud heart as she waited. Fifty-five. Fifty-six. After a hundred she was ready to open to door further when something stopped her. A creak of floorboards, she thought except… It wasn't coming from the next room—too muted for that. And not from above. Another creaking and another in a steady rhythm. As of footfalls on stairs.

Byleth pressed herself flat against the wall and gestured for Lysithea to do the same. Moments later the squeal of un-oiled hinges scraped at the nighttime silence and the footfalls became distinct followed by voices. Two. Both male.

"—potentially dangerous."

"No. The Fell Star's power has been neutralized. She is no different than the common beasts now."

"But the same cannot be said for the emperor."

"No, she must be neutralized as well."

Byleth forced herself to take deep breaths to calm the hammering of her heart and the sudden desire to rush through that door, sword drawn, and slice the mages into bloody ribbons. Where was the Ashen Demon now? Serene and deadly. They were right. She was different. But that did not make her less deadly. And while she breathed, she would never allow them to touch Edelgard again.

The hinges squealed, the light was doused, and the footsteps moved towards the far end of the house and then upstairs. When everything had grown quiet again, Byleth dared to push the door open and step into the study. She lit the lantern that rested on the desk and inspected the floor. After several seconds she pointed to a hatch at her feet.

"Wait," Lysithea whispered and took a minute to examine the papers that rested on the desk. Most of what was there were ledger books, but Lysithea's attention was focussed on a letter. Leaning over her shoulder, Byleth scanned the contents. It promised troops and supplies in a flowing script that danced across the page with a lightness completely incongruous with the war preparations it proposed. It was signed only, "Your Obedient Servant".

"This handwriting…" Lysithea said. "It's familiar. One of the Alliance lords, I'm certain of it."

"You think someone in the Alliance is working with Arundel?"

Lysithea nodded. "Yes, but I need to check a few things before I can confirm my hypothesis." Her expression was grim. She set the letter back down, just as it had been, and then turned to Byleth. "Now let's see what they're hiding in the cellar."

The piercing squeal of the hinges made Byleth wince and freeze in place, but no sound of footsteps followed so she took a deep breath and descended into the darkness.

The air grew colder with each creaking step until she felt like she might as well be outside. Once her feet were on solid ground again she paused and swept the room with the lanternlight. Bookcases lined the far wall filled with slim black volumes, oddly uniform. In the centre of the room was what appeared to be a metallic worktable covered in glassware and metal implements Byleth didn’t recognize, as well as several more of the black volumes.

When she came down the stairs and took in their surroundings, Lysithea gasped. She walked towards the work table and, hand trembling visibly, picked up one of the implements. A glass tube with an impossibly long, thin needle attached to its base. "I've seen this before," she said, voice tremulous. "They called it a syringe." Byleth didn't ask when Lysithea had seen it. "It's used to inject fluids into a vein."

A wave of queasiness rolled over Byleth. They had used devices like that on helpless children. On Lysithea. On Edelgard. That and worse. What little she knew of the blood reconstruction surgery was that it was an agonizing and prolonged procedure that could drive people to madness—when it didn't kill them. Only two had ever survived it.

In her mind's eye, Edelgard was strapped to a work table much like this one, writhing and screaming as the mages sliced and punctured and broke her body.

Desperate to tear her thoughts away, Byleth set down the lantern and moved to examine the shelves. She chose a volume at random and opened it. During her time at the academy she'd become accustomed to reading different types of script from the books in the library's collection, but this was something she'd not seen before. The letters were simple print like those used to teach children the alphabet, but they were all perfectly formed as if created with stencils. The first page included age and personal specifications for someone labelled as "Subject 000113" and in capital letters across the top, "COPY ONLY. Complete file located in Shambhala Storage Unit 909".

Lysithea had joined her by the shelves and was peering at the open volume with a thoughtful expression. "I've read about this in the Abyss library. One of the technologies Rhea banned was a moveable type print machine. It would allow for the creation of multiple copies of documents and be much more efficient than woodblock printing." Byleth nodded sagely though she wasn't quite certain what "moveable type" meant. "Those who slither in the dark must have access to some of the devices Rhea suppressed." Her features crumpled into a frown as her eyes scanned down the page. "That looks like… a test subject report." Her eyes dropped to the bottom of the page. "Subject deceased." She snorted and reached for another volume and inspected the first page. "Subject deceased." And then another. "Subject deceased."

Byleth's eyes roamed the bookcase. "But there are so many. These can't all be…"

"Their victims." Lysithea's voice was like a Faerghus winter. "These are all logs of their experiments."

"Is this is what you were hoping to find?"

"This is better than what I was hoping for. If only we could take all of it back to Professor Hanneman."

Byleth arched an eyebrow. "I think we may need to start with a more curated selection."

Lysithea sighed. "I realize that. Let's begin with these," she said, returning to the worktable to inspect the volumes that rested on it. "They have personal notes scrawled on them." She handed two of them to Byleth and then returned to the book cases to select a few more from the collection. "There. We should be able to carry that. I suppose it'll have to do for now."

"All right," Byleth said with a nod as she stashed the books into a bag and slung the strap across her shoulders. "Now let's get out of here."

With a nod Lysithea agreed and followed Byleth back up the creaking stairway to the study. Everything was still as they emerged form the cellar but as Byleth shut the hatch, she heard footfalls from upstairs, moving quickly.

She cursed under her breath and grabbed Lysithea's arm dragging her along through the kitchen and into the parlour. The tread of boots on the stairs was unmistakeable. She paused to tug open her bag and stuff in a pair of silver candlesticks and an ornate inkwell.

"What are—"

"Let's go!" She said and yanked the sack closed before rushing towards the window and vaulting through the unlocked shutter. Her feet hit the ground hard and she turned to offer a helping hand as Lysithea scrambled through the window even as shouting filled the air behind them.

The skies had opened up, pelting the streets with a frigid downpour making the paving stones slippery underfoot. Grasping Lysithea's wrist with an iron grip Byleth tore through the darkened streets, skidding around corners and keeping the slighter girl upright on the slick stone until she found a sufficiently distant side street to duck into. Lysithea was gasping for breath and Byleth let her recover while she adjusted one of the candlesticks that had begun jutting out of her bag.

"What… are those… for?" Lysithea asked between breaths.

"To make it look like a normal robbery. With any luck by the time they realize some of their files are missing it'll already be too late."

"Good… thinking."

"We need to dispose of these things before we head back the palace."

They were near one of the canals. Once Lysithea had caught her breath, they made their way to the nearest one. Byleth removed the first candlestick from her the bag, her fist clenching around it. It was just a piece of moulded silver but somehow the fact that it belonged to _them_ , to the monsters who had tortured people she cared for, gave it a sickening film. And then, with a grunt, she drew back and flung the candlestick into the canal. The second candlestick and the inkwell followed. But it wasn't enough. She wanted toss in everything they owned, all of those wretched subject logs and their tortuous implements. And them. Most of all she wanted to throw those mages into the water and watch them drown.

Anger roiled in her like an acrid wine that set fire to her veins and blurred her thoughts. All those years she'd been an unfeeling husk and now every emotion left her staggering like a mercenary who couldn't hold their liquor during post-battle celebrations.

She stirred when Lysithea reached out and touched her arm. "Professor?"

"It's nothing." She shook herself and then paused to inspect her bedraggled and shivering companion. She reached out to tug Lysithea's hood down around her face once more and smiled. "Let's get back. Edelgard'll have my head if she finds out I had you running around in a storm."

Lysithea sniffed. "I highly doubt that."

"Well she'd scold me anyway. Come on," she said, adjusting her own hood. "We got what we came for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was really interesting that the Abyss library had that list of suppressed technologies that included the printing press. But since the silthers have ballistic missiles and laser weapons in Shambala I figure they probably can manage some sort of printing device.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth finally gets to visit Edelgard and see the aftermath of the injury.

It wasn't until the evening of the day after the attack that Edelgard's physicians deemed her well enough to receive visitors. And naturally Hubert, as Minister of the Household, insisted on being the first so he could provide her will a full report of what had occurred while she'd been indisposed.

Byleth had already had a chat with Hubert about what she and Lysithea had found. He glowered at first but then appeared thoughtful when she mentioned the document from the Alliance lord, whose handwriting Lysithea was trying to identity. "It was a reckless endeavour," he'd said, "but I must admit the results were most beneficial. If they have placed an agent of theirs in the Alliance then it makes sense that they're trying to force our attention to the north."

An attack on the emperor was not, after all, a small thing. When the Faerghus king had been killed during the Duscar incident, the Kingdom had responded with the wholesale slaughter of Duscar's people. Sending troops up the Kingdom would weaken Adrestia's defences. It was exactly what Arundel would want.

When Hubert finally emerged from Edelgard's room he gave Byleth a long look. "Please be mindful not to tire her out."

Byleth tilted her head and peered at him but before she could ask him what precisely he meant by that, he was halfway across the room and showing himself out. Giving herself a shake, she knocked on the door. "It's me."

"Come in."

Byleth pushed open the door and then, as she finally laid eyes on Edelgard, stood frozen on the threshold as relief washed over her and threatened to take her knees out from under her like a coursing river current. Edelgard was sitting in bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. Her hair was loose and she was wearing an overlarge white shirt with buttons down the front. The right sleeve dangled loosely since her arm was tucked into a sling beneath the shirt in an effort to keep it immobilized. The dark circles beneath her eyes were unmistakeable.

"Professor?" Edelgard's voice broke the trance and Byleth strode across the room to take the hand Edelgard held out to her and sit on the edge of the bed.

"El." The name came out as barely more than a whisper. Her heart seemed determined to fight its way up her throat. She took a shaky breath and tried again to speak. "I was worried."

Edelgard squeezed her hand. "It's not the first time I've been injured."

Byleth shook her head. It was different now. The fear cut into her more deeply, made her shaky and restless. "Yes but… I can't protect you like I used to."

"You did protect me. And I was told you were injured." Edelgard's eyes scanned her up and down as if looking for the wound.

"It was nothing, just a graze."

"Is that so?" Edelgard said with a raised eyebrow. "As I recall, the last time you told me something was just a graze you'd almost lost three fingers."

Byleth wiggled the fingers of her left hand where a pale scar was still visible on the inside of her palm. But to prove her point, she rolled up her sleeve and showed off her bandaged arm. "See? All in once piece."

Edelgard gave a curt nod. "Good. That's how I prefer you."

"That reminds me…" After searching through her pockets for a few seconds Byleth produced a small ceramic jar. "Manuela sends her regards and some ointment. She said it should help reduce the bruising and pain." She removed the lid and a pungent odour filled the air. "I can slather some on your shoulder for you."

"No!" The word sprang from her lips so quickly and so suddenly that for a moment Byleth just stared at her in surprise. "That is… it's not necessary. I can do it myself. Later."

Byleth's brow furrowed with concern. "What is it?" Was there something the physicians hadn't told her about? Was the wound worse than she'd understood it to be?

Edelgard groaned and massaged her temples with her good hand. "I'm being ridiculous, I know. You'll see everything eventually of course but…"

"See what?" Byleth leaned in and cupped Edelgard's face, looking into her eyes. "Are you all right?"

A faint smile curved Edelgard's lips. "I've worried you. I'm sorry." She stroked Byleth's hair, brushing stray locks away from her face. Looking into Edelgard's violet eyes it was hard to breathe. "I'm fine. But there's something I need you to see."

Byleth sat back and waited as Edelgard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. And then, with her good hand, she began slowly undoing the buttons of the oversized shirt. A violent blush was creeping up Edelgard's neck and face as she loosed the buttons, one which Byleth suspected mirrored her own. Her heart was racing again.

With great care, Edelgard arranged the shirt around the curve of her breasts, exposing her stomach and solar plexus. And the scars.

A diagonal curve beneath her ribs, one on each side. A pair of parallel lines over her naval, biting into the taunt muscles of her belly, and another that cut between them and skirted her naval to continue below. Some of the lines were layered as if cut into multiple times. And though they were an angry pink against the paleness of Edelgard's skin, the lines were exact, deliberate. Battle scars were chaotic, zigzagging over flesh like serpents, nothing like the malicious precision carved into Edelgard's body. These were surgical scars.

"This is…" Byleth's voice was shaky. "What they did to you?"

"Yes."

Byleth reached out but she stopped herself and looked up at Edelgard. "May I?" Edelgard nodded but as Byleth's fingers hovered over her skin she could feel her muscles flinching away from the touch. She drew back but Edelgard grasped her hand and pressed it against the bare skin of her stomach, covering the mess of scars. Beneath her palm, Byleth could feel the rapid thrum of Edelgard's heart and the rise and fall of her quick breaths.

For a minute they remained that way and Byleth could see something in Edelgard's eyes, some fragment of the girl she'd been before the Crest of Flames. The mask she wore as emperor slid from her face just as the Flame Emperor's mask had fallen away when they'd battled in the Holy Tomb all those years ago.

Finally Byleth leaned in and pressed a kiss to Edelgard's brow. "Let me use this ointment. Please?"

"All right," Edelgard said softly.

"Right." Byleth gave a sharp nodded. "Hold on one minute… I'm going to sit behind you, okay?" She paused a moment to pull off her boots and then scrambled onto the bed, back against the headboard. "Scoot in a bit closer now." Edelgard did, and though her back was turned to Byleth the professor could see a furious blush creeping up her neck again. "Good. Now just hold still."

With gentle fingers, Byleth slipped the shirt off Edelgard's shoulders, revealing the aftermath of the injury. Huge purple blotches mottled her skin, fading into a sickly greenish yellow at the edges of the bruising. Byleth dipped her fingers into the viscous ointment and then gingerly applied it to her shoulder, just above her collarbone. A hissing noise escaped Edelgard but was quickly cut off. "El?"

"I'm fine. Go on."

Byleth took care as she slathered the ointment over the bruising. The smell of herbs and cloves assaulted her nose and she had to stifle a sneeze midway through. Once she was satisfied that she'd covered the entirety of the bruised skin, she wrapped an arm around Edelgard's waist and carefully pulled her in close. "All done," she whispered against her ear.

"It's… tingling."

"That means it's working."

Edelgard let out a long breath. "Thank you, my teacher." Byleth pressed a kiss to the bare skin of Edelgard's uninjured shoulder and then another against her neck. A little sigh fell from Edelgard's lips. "Promise me you'll do that again when I'm well enough to properly enjoy it."

"I think we can arrange that," Byleth replied, lips quirked.

She let her chin rest against Edelgard's uninjured shoulder and sat with her, cheek to cheek, as she adjusted her hands until they found those smooth lines of scar tissue. The body remembered things, remembered wounds and the sting of blades. Byleth's palms came to rest on the scars so that Edelgard's body could learn the feel of her hands, so it could learn that those hands would never hurt her.

Edelgard's skin was warm and the lines that arced through the steely muscles of her abdomen seemed warmer still. The procedure had made her who she was. More than the inhuman strength granted to her from the crest, it had tempered her will, forged her into someone determined to overthrow the very forces that had ruled Fódlan for over a millennium.

It frightened Byleth when she thought of what might have happened if she had chosen differently that first day at the academy. Dropped into the lion's den and forced to make a choice with next to no information, a choice that had, in the end changed everything for her. But how could she have chosen otherwise? The day she'd met Edelgard she'd felt something unexplainable, something that had made her step in front of a bandit's axe. The pull of their shared crests. She hadn't known it then but it was the tug of that shared power. And then when they'd spoken later, how Edelgard had seemed to understand her aloofness, to feel kinship with it—that immediate recognition had made it impossible to make any other choice.

Edelgard's breathing had slowed and Byleth could see her eyelids drooping. She was still recovering and needed sleep. "I'd better go. You need your rest and I'm under orders not to tire you out."

She drew back and helped pull the overlarge shirt back over the sling and waited while Edelgard deftly buttoned it back up one-handed. Already she missed the heat of Edelgard's skin beneath her fingers but she moved to get off the bed and retrieve her boots.

"Byleth?"

The uncertainty in Edelgard's voice made Byleth turn back to look at her. "Hm?"

"Will you stay? Please."

Byleth tilted her head. "But your shoulder. Won't I jostle you if I'm here?"

Edelgard sniffed. "There's enough space here for six to lie side by side. I think it should be fine unless you're prone to wild thrashing in your sleep."

"No," Byleth said, shaking her head, "I've been told I sleep like the dead." Or like someone who was never really alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave a lot of thought to Edelgard's scars. I know a lot of fan artists love to have her scarred all over and I totally get the appeal of that--the idea that all the suffering she's endured is reflected on her body. But the procedure she was subjected to is referred to as a surgery so I wanted to make the distinction that the scars were from very deliberate incisions.
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and koodos. I do appreciate knowing I'm not the only one who still loves Crimson Flower even as the game approached its first anniversary. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In spite of her injuries, Edelgard confronts Arundel and the ministers of Adrestia with the Ashen Demon by her side.

Byleth's eyes snapped open. Flames still danced behind her eyelids, and the bellow of the Immaculate One echoed in her ears. _Is this the world you wanted to create?_ She held still and allowed the dream to fade as she absorbed her surroundings. A plump pillow beneath her head, silken sheets surrounding her, a plaster ceiling decorated with intricate gold patterns like swirling metallic flames.

Waking somewhere new had been the norm for most of her life so she was never startled by an unfamiliar ceiling, tent, or sky, but the touch of skin against her own--that was another matter entirely.

Fingers, fiercely warm, against her elbow.

Edelgard.

When she'd agreed to stay last night, she'd made a point of settling herself as far as she could on the other side of the bed. She'd wanted to be absolutely sure she wouldn't jostle Edelgard in her sleep and risk hurting her injured shoulder, even though what she truly wanted was to wrap herself around Edelgard's slim frame and pull her in until she could feel the steady rhythm of her breaths.

Careful to stay otherwise still, Byleth shifted her head on the pillow and looked at the emperor. Sleep softened her features, making her seem younger, as if she'd briefly shed the weight of Adrestia. Her lips were slightly chapped but still pink and full. Her hair spilled over her pillow around her face like a frazzled halo.

"I can feel you staring." The sleepy murmur brought a smile to Byleth's face.

"I didn't want to wake you."

The sheets rustled as those warm fingers moved from her elbow down the length of her forearm, pausing momentarily to linger on the smooth line of a scar before finding Byleth's hand and intertwining their fingers. With a contented sigh, Edelgard finally opened her eyes and turned to meet Byleth's gaze. "I'm glad you're here."

Byleth squeezed her hand. "So am I. How does you shoulder feel?"

Edelgard shifted, rolling her shoulder experimentally. Byleth's eyes watched intently for any sign of discomfort, though she knew Edelgard was adept at masking it. "Sore but quite manageable." And then, as if to prove her point, she rolled onto her good side and scooted closer so she could curl herself against Byleth. And then Edelgard lay her head on Byleth's chest and let her eyes slide shut again, a little sigh escaping her lips.

"Are you… listening to my heart?"

"I am," Edelgard said.

For a moment, Byleth found herself holding her breath. Edelgard was listening to her heartbeat. And that thought—that Edelgard von Hresvelg, the steel-willed Emperor of Adrestia who had taken on the Church of Seiros and toppled it, could find contentment in listening to the beat of her heart—was overwhelming. It was all she had to offer her anymore. She had traded the powers of a god for victory and this heartbeat was her reward, her release. And though it might be special for her, a heartbeat would be a mundane offering from anyone else.

But she could feel Edelgard's whole body relax against her, so Byleth lay there and stroked her hair, and gave her the mundane gift of being truly alive.

"When we defeated Rhea," Edelgard began slowly, "and you fell… I was afraid I'd lost you again. But then your heart began to beat and—" She raised her head to look into Byleth's eyes. "It was the most beautiful sound I could have imagined."

"It's yours, El." The words stuck in her throat. They were so flimsy, so small against the immensity of what she felt, this rush of emotion that made her chest feel as if it would burst like broken floodgates. "This heartbeat, my heart—it's yours." She reached out to cup Edelgard's face in her hands. " _I'm_ yours, El."

For a minute Edelgard just stared, eyes wide, mouth agape. Finally she took a breath and shook her head. "Byleth, you say things like that and I hardly know what to say in return."

Byleth shifted uneasily. "I guess I'm not as reserved as I used to be. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. I could never love you less for becoming more of who you are. Who you were meant to be." And then, with her good arm, Edelgard pulled herself up so she could press her lips against Byleth's.

Edelgard's body was like a warm quilt draped over her. Byleth closed her eyes and let herself melt into the soft comfort of her touch. Her fingers wandered to the back of Edelgard's neck and traced circles on her skin, ever mindful of that injured shoulder. She wished they could stay like this, warm and comfortable, and together, in a fortress of silk sheets and slanting dawn light. But Edelgard was the emperor and an angry world waited for them outside, a world that had tried to take Edelgard from her once again.

With another sigh, Edelgard pulled back and gingerly pushed herself up into a sitting position. "I have a meeting with the ministers this morning."

"I know." Already Byleth missed Edelgard's warmth against her.

She straightened and something in her features shifted, hardened, like a mask she was donning before she stepped out of this room to face the world. "I want you to be there with me. But I need you to be the Ashen Demon today."

Byleth tilted her head and peered at her. "You want me to act vacant?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of silent and foreboding."

And then, with a slow nod, "I can manage that."

#

The Lords of the Adrestian Empire rose when Edelgard strode into the council room, Byleth trailing behind like her shadow. Only when she took her seat at the head of the long oak table did the others return to their chairs, save Byleth who stood behind the emperor’s shoulder, away from the table, just as one Edelgard’s personal guards might. She was also the only person in the room with a sword at her hip.

Byleth kept her expression stony as she scanned the ministers seated around the long oak table, both friend and foe alike. Ferdinand as Prime Minister and Hubert as Minister of the Household sat at Edelgard’s right and left. Further down were the other remaining Ministers. Count Bergliez, Minister of Military Affairs and Count Hevring, Minister of the Interior, both supporters of Edelgard’s.

The position of Minister of Religion, traditionally filled by House Varley, had remained vacant since the start of the war and instead a Deputy Minister of Judicial Affairs had been nominated. And while Lord Aethgill had excelled at managing the secularization of the judicial system, he had a reputation for being exacting in all areas, not only those under his purview. As for Arundel, he had taken over as Minister of the Exterior after the removal of Duke Gerth.

"Good day, everyone," Edelgard greeted the assembled ministers. Looking at Edelgard you’d never have guessed that only two days earlier her collarbone had been shattered and even now was only tenuously knit back together. No one would suspect the stabbing pain that shot through her every time she raised her right arm, the rainbow of bruises mottling her pale skin. But Byleth knew. They’d quarrelled about the sling. Edelgard had insisted she couldn’t wear it to the council meeting no matter what her physicians recommended; she could not afford to look weak before the ministers.

"Your Majesty," boomed, Count Bergliez in a voice that was deeper and more gravelly than Caspar’s but similarly vivacious, "it’s a relief to see you so well recovered."

Everyone in the room hastily added their agreement. Byleth’s eyes rested on Arundel as he spoke his polite lies with complete earnestness. Her gut roiled but she kept her expression blank. She was the Ashen Demon, unmoved by deceit, incapable of fury.

Edelgard gave a nod of thanks and but before she could get a single word out, Lord Aethgill spoke up, his eyes moving from Edelgard to Byleth as he spoke. "Your Majesty, do you intend to have General Eisner remain for this session? It is customary for each Minister to be allowed a number of advisors equal to the Emperor's and this number should be settled upon before the start of the session."

Byleth caught Count Bergliez rolling his eyes but she suppressed both her amusement and her irritation and forced herself to remain outwardly calm as she would in battle. This was, after all, a sort of battle.

"Lord Aethgill," Edelgard began coolly, "I am aware of the stipulations regarding advisors at council meetings. General Eisner is here in another capacity that I will explain, but first, with everyone's consent, I think we should discuss the matter of the attack." With perfect civility they agreed to Edelgard's proposition. "In that case, Hubert, will you please report on the findings of your investigation?"

"Lady Edelgard," he said with a bow of his head before turning to the other ministers. "The would-be assassin was the youngest son of House Mishaud, a minor house affiliated with House Charon. During the war he was assigned as part of King Dimitri's retinue but was injured in the final months of the war and unable to participate in the battles that ended Dimitri's reign. A letter discovered on his person claimed that his family was unaware of his intentions and that his attack was meant to avenge Dimitri."

"Rubbish," growled Count Bergliez. "It's inconceivable that he was working alone."

Hubert nodded. "I am inclined to agree. However, at present we only have evidence for the conspirator who assisted him in gaining access to the palace grounds. One of the household staff has disappeared, Sebastien Flint, a footman who's been in service to the family for the past ten years."

"I was under the impression the imperial household was immune to bribery," Count Hevring said. The languor of his slow, soft words reminded her of Linhardt in all his sleepiness, but the Count had none of his son's gentle concern. His words were as soft as a knife in its sheathe for though he had supported Edelgard's ascension, so too had he supported the overthrow of her father.

Ferdinand shook his head. "There are other ways to influence someone's behaviour. Threats may succeed where bribes fail. Hubert, did this man, by chance, have a family?"

A hint of a smile tugged at Hubert's lips. "He did have family, a son stationed in the Kingdom. Who recently disappeared. "

"We can't allow an attack like this to go unanswered," Bergliez announced. "We should send an extra battalion north to wipe out dissidents and subdue any further discontent."

"No." Edelgard's reply was calm and clipped.

"Two battalions then," Bergliez said. "I suppose we can spare one from the east."

Edelgard shook her head. "I do not mean to send any battalions to the Kingdom. We need to increase the shipments of foodstuffs to see them through the winter as well as supplies to aid in the rebuilding of Fhirdiad."

Bergliez's brow crumpled into a scowl. "An attack on the emperor cannot go answered. It will make us look weak!" he said, his fist slamming onto the oak table.

"Count Bergliez is correct," Hevring said evenly, his eyes narrowed as he regarded the emperor.

Byleth's heart constricted like a coiled serpent when Arundel spoke.

"You cannot buy loyalty, Your Majesty."

Edelgard turned the full force of her gaze on Arundel, but she kept her expression polite and almost friendly as she replied. "No, you cannot. But you can _earn_ it."

The sneer on Arundel's face made his disdain easy enough to discern. "How optimistic of you, Your Majesty."

"I agree with Her Majesty," Ferdinand offered. "We have defeated them soundly and our allies are in control of the key Kingdom territories. Now is the time to show them that we are different than the Church, that we intend to rebuild where Rhea sowed destruction."

Byleth had to suppress a smile. It would have been so easy for Ferdinand to reject Edelgard's rule after she'd placed his father under arrest. But he had seen Rhea for what she was and joined Edelgard's cause to restore the rule of Fódlan to its people and create a more just world. He had given up the role of rival and taken up the mantle of ally and advisor. She was proud of him, of all of them for what they'd accomplished during her five year absence and what they'd accomplished together since then.

Hubert, hands steepled on the table, leaned forward slightly. "The war put considerable strain on the Kingdom's resources, which were relatively meagre to begin with. The people of Faerghus will want food and shelter more than revenge." He looked pointedly at Count Bergliez. "Our soldiers would do well to remind the people of Faerghus that that's it's their own nobility who's endangering them. Mishaud and his ilk are willing to sacrifice them just as the Church did."

A faint smile curved Hevring lips. "Undermining the disgraced houses of Faerghus? An interesting strategy. Very well, we can see about acquiring more supplies to be sent north."

From there, the discussions veered into the minutiae of logistics and schedules. Byleth kept her eyes on Arundel but his gaze was as blank as her own.

"Which brings me to another matter…" Edelgard's words made Byleth's innards roil and she steeled herself for what was coming as Edelgard turned to Aethgill. "You inquired about General Eisner's presence. Some of you are already aware that I've asked her to take on the role of Emperor-Consort."

Byleth stiffened and kept her eyes on Edelgard as she felt the ministers focus all of their attention on herself. Arundel's gaze was like the icy winds of Fhirdiad. Her insides were churning and she felt an unpleasant burn rise from her stomach to suffuse her chest, but she kept herself still, forced her features into an air of grim determination. Edelgard has asked her to be the Ashen Demon and so she would be.

Hevring cleared his throat. "This is… somewhat unusual, Your Majesty."

"It is," Edelgard agreed. "But these are unusual times, Lord Hevring."

"Would it not be wise to offer the general peerage first?"

Edelgard tilted her chin up. "It would be traditional certainly. But General Eisner was instrumental to our victory against the Church. She has earned her place through her service to the war effort. Any additional title would be only a formality. And one which I believe can be dispensed with."

In the uneasy silence that followed Byleth could feel the ministers assessing her, trying to calculate Edelgard's aim. In refusing to offer peerage she was flouting even the appearance of elevating Byleth to the nobility. And since Byleth brought with her neither wealth nor influence there was no clear political purpose to the marriage.

"I will make the public announcement at the Hervor Ball and issue invitations to the representatives of each territory. The wedding will take place in Garland Moon."

Byleth couldn't tear her eyes from Edelgard as she spoke. The wedding. The trap. The planned attack on Arundel's forces. She gave none of this away, not even the slightest hint that they had any other agenda. Without the sling to support her arm, Edelgard's shoulder must surely be throbbing by now, but she retained such perfect calm and poise, and the hardest thing for Byleth was to not reach out to her.

"Congratulation, Your Majesty," Ferdinand offered with gusto. At this the ministers came to themselves and offered their best wishes—sincere or otherwise—to the emperor and consort-to-be.

They ended the meeting on that note, though Aethgill insisted on speaking to Edelgard about who should perform the ceremony in the stead of the defunct Church of Seiros. Local magistrates had stepped in to perform such duties elsewhere but Imperial weddings were normally performed by the Archbishop herself so an ordinary magistrate wouldn't do. Byleth used the opportunity to slip out after Arundel.

"Lord Arundel, a moment," she called after him.

He paused, one eyebrow raised in a mix of disdain and amusement which he didn't bother to hide. "General Eisner, what can I do for you?"

Byleth didn't mince words. She stepped in close, close enough to slit his throat and watch his blood stain the polished slate floors. "If I find out you were involved in the assassination attempt, I _will_ kill you." She kept her voice low and soft so the words would reach none but him even in these echoing corridors.

A huff of laughter like an autumn wind crackling through dead leaves. "If this is your attempt at intimidation I think perhaps you should take some lessons from our friend Hubert."

Byleth shook her head. "I'm not attempting to intimidate you. I'm only stating a fact."

His face contorted into a sneer. "You're nothing but the emperor's doll now."

If she had still been the Ashen Demon his words would have been as dust, easily swept away. But instead they caught in her throat and wormed their way down to her pounding heart. That's what she'd been to Rhea—a doll to be used and, when she failed to be Sothis's avatar, discarded. An empty shell that had proved to be worthless when she'd turned out to have a mind and soul and will of her own. But Edelgard, Edelgard had been her choice and Edelgard's love was not contingent upon the Crest of Flames or her being a vessel for the goddess.

" _You_ ," Byleth said, her anger seeping into her words, like blood from an open wound that couldn't be staunched. "You're no better than Rhea. You think we're nothing but our crests."

"Crests are your only avenue to power. And without yours you are _nothing_."

_You're wrong._ She clamped her jaw shut lest she say it out loud. He turned on his heel and strode away, shoulders squared, head held high, confident in his victory. His superiority. As she watched him, she felt the weakness of her body, the strength she'd lost when the crest stone had dissolved and her heart had begun to beat. Once, she could have crushed his skull with her bare hands. And with the Sword of the Creator she could have levelled his armies. Now…

She was only human. But when she came for Arundel, she would not show up alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Yuri's help, Byleth ventures below the streets of Enbarr to investigate those who slither in the dark and the demonic beasts they created during the war.

The approaching footsteps were the faintest pad on Enbarr's paving stones. Hood pulled low over her face, Byleth held still and waited until the footfalls came to a halt a mere pace away in the alley behind her. "What do we have here?" said a silky voice. "An inhabitant of the palace gracing us with their presence? I think you're in the wrong part of town, friend."

Byleth's lips twitched into a smile beneath her hood. "I hear there's no one better for giving tours of the wrong part of town."

"You heard right."

The alley, a narrow passageway between and alehouse and a dilapidated inn, reeked of beer and piss but when she turned, Yuri was standing tall in the squalor looking as blasé as could be despite the muck on his boots. Byleth gave a sharp nod. "Lead on," she said and followed him through the maze of narrow streets of Enbarr's lowtown.

Her mind flitted to Dorothea who had lived in these same alleys until she'd been discovered by the Mittelfrank Opera Company. The thought of her dear friend scrounging in the mud and squalor made her innards twist and she had to force herself to focus on her surroundings, on Yuri's confident stride. In the past she had been less prone to distraction. So many of her friends had told her of their struggles, and their suffering had saddened her but it had, somehow, seemed less immediate, less visceral than this distressing tightness in her chest. The choked feeling in her throat. The tingling in her eyes as they threatened to produce tears.

Yuri glanced over his shoulder. "You all right there, friend? You don't seem quite yourself."

Byleth huffed. "I'm not entirely sure what being myself means anymore."

"Well you're still sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong so you can't be _too_ far off the mark." He led them down an incline, under a bridge, and towards the arched entrance of one of the city culverts. Muddy water burbled and chugged from the culvert to spill into the main waterway, and the miasma of the city's waste attacked her senses, making Byleth wrinkle her nose.

Byleth steeled herself to follow Yuri into the culvert, but he stopped just to one side where an iron door was set into the mossy stone wall. He fiddled with the lock for a few seconds and then held open the door. "After you, Your Majesty."

She stepped through the door "I'm still only General Eisner."

His footsteps followed behind her and then the door shut. The torch strapped to Yuri's belt rocked with his movements, making their lean shadows writhe like serpents. "You'll be the emperor's consort soon enough though if what I'm hearing is true."

Byleth scanned their surroundings. No water here, just close stone walls. The passageway that stretched ahead of them looked barely more than shoulder-breadth in width. "Where are we? Is it safe to talk?" Her voice rebounded to her the like ghost of her past self, distant and faded.

"A service tunnel. The local underground folk use them quite a bit. But yes, we're on our own for now."

Byleth lit her own lamp, though it did very little to penetrate the tarry darkness stretching endlessly ahead of them. It was a good thing Lysithea wasn't here—she would have suspected ghosts. She spent the next several minutes detailing the plan to Yuri. The danger to Enbarr by the javelins of light, the use of the wedding to mask the gathering of their forces, the need to assemble quietly and piecemeal before they struck.

"So that's the way of it," Yuri said with a slow nod. "Crafty and unsentimental. I like it." He paused as the passageway forked. He unhooked his lamp and held it up against stonework until he found markings and then headed down the passage to the right. "That also explains why you're so keen to root out this viper's nest. You were right that they have more than one lair in the capital."

"They've been established here for a very long time," Byleth said darkly. Before the experiments and the blood reconstruction surgery there had been Arundel. How long had he been one of them? When had Thales taken on his appearance and taken over his life? Before the Insurrection of the Seven surely for that had been the beginning of their plotting to throw Faerghus into disarray.

"That doesn't much surprise me."

"Thank you for your help, Yuri. I'm glad you had contacts here."

He chuckled. "You should know by now that I have contacts everywhere. And no need for thanks. I still owe you a favour for your help all those years ago."

Byleth tilted her head and peered at his back. "My help?"

"With the turf war. I wouldn't admit it at the time but it turns out I did need a helping hand after all. "

She shook her head and then realized he couldn't see her. "There's no need—"

"I always repay my debts," he said before she could protest further. "Besides, I think everyone will be much better off without our slithery friends on the loose."

The tunnel branched occasionally and at times they passed areas where it was clear recent work had been done to patch and maintain the stonework of the city's waterways. Occasionally a corpulent rat would skitter past their boots or scratch at something up ahead, but by and large they continued on in silence with only the wavering lamplight to pierce the inky darkness. The quivering shadows turned her mind to the reason she was here, the fruit of a recent conversation with Hubert, one she'd put off for far too long.

As Minister of the Household Hubert had a his own private office. While Ferdinand's office was festooned with tapestries, banners, flower vases, and portraits, Hubert's was almost painfully spartan. A writing desk with neat stacks of paper and a pristine inkwell occupied the centre of the room. Scrolls, books, and ledgers filled the shelves along the walls. The air was suffused with the pungent aroma of that strong brew of exotic ground beans he was always drinking. "Professor," he greeted her with a raised eyebrow. He set aside the missive he was reading and steepled his fingers as she took a seat opposite him. "What can I do for you?"

Byleth took a deep breath and dove in. "Back at the academy, Kronya and Solon transformed a group of students into demonic beasts. What do you know about that?"

Hubert paused for a moment as if considering the question. It was still fresh for her but for Hubert she was asking him to sort through six turbulent years' worth of memories. They had gained half a decade of experience while she'd had only a handful of dreams to fill the void between the first battle of Garreg Mach and her reunion with Edelgard and the Eagles. "I knew little of it at the time," Hubert began slowly. "Arundel's forces acted independently and, as you know, Solon's ultimate goal was to lure you into the sealed forest."

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. They had murdered her father to achieve that goal. If she could kill Solon and Kronya again she would. Her heart lurched at the thought. If she could confront them now it would not be with the superhuman calm she'd received from the goddess, but with the fury of an all-too-human daughter who'd watched her father murdered in front of her and been powerless to stop it.

She could feel Hubert's scrutiny, knew he was noting the tightness of her jaw and eyes, the difference between what she'd been then and who she was now. "But what about the demonic beasts?" she asked. Hubert was one of the few who knew what she'd been and how she'd changed. Let him draw his own conclusions.

"While we had no idea that Solon would use the students as test subjects, we were aware that crest stones, or even shards of them, had the ability to transform the holder into demonic beasts."

"That was why Edelgard tried to take them from the Holy Tomb? To create demonic beasts for the Imperial army?"

Hubert gave her a long look and leaned back into his chair. "Have you not discussed this with Lady Edelgard?"

Byleth sighed. "Some of it but not everything." She knew it pained Edelgard to discuss the moral compromises she had had to make to achieve her goals. And though Edelgard believed those compromises had been necessary and unavoidable, she carried the burden of them—of the suffering those decisions had caused so many—like scars. "And I think it pains you much less to discuss these matters."

He nodded, appearing satisfied with her answer. "Very well. Yes, professor, Lord Arundel deemed it necessary to create demonic beasts as a countermeasure to the Immaculate One. The original plan of attack on Garreg Mach involved a massive army and a division of demonic beasts led by Thales, which would subdue the Immaculate One."

Byleth shook her head. "I never heard about any of this. Why the change of plans?"

A low chuckle was a sure sign that her question had amused Hubert immensely. "Can't you guess, Professor?" She stared blankly at him. "You, Professor. Everything changed the moment you broke away from the Church. Lady Edelgard rejected Lord Arundel's plan and formulated an entirely new plan. With the Sword of the Creator on our side, we no longer needed Lord Arundel's forces to deal with the Immaculate One, and we had an elite army of our own thanks to your powers of persuasion."

"The Black Eagle Strike Force," she murmured. She wondered how her students would have chosen if she had sided against Edelgard. Would they have followed their professor instead of their emperor, betrayed their families, their homeland, for the sake of the Church of Seiros? The thought curdled Byleth's blood. If Byleth had not stood by her, would Edelgard have had to fight the war alone with Hubert as her only ally? She would have had no leverage with Lord Arundel then. She would have been as much a puppet as Byleth herself had been to Rhea. She took a deep breath to try to calm the sudden anguish that tightened her chest and made her eyes burn. Hubert was peering at her again, evaluating her newfound volatility she supposed.

"Yes, the Black Eagles. And our many other allies. You allowed us to fight the war on our own terms. Without the need of demonic beasts or Cornelia's meddling in the Kingdom."

She gave herself a moment to absorb this information before returning her attention to the reason she'd come. "So those who slither in the dark have the ability to create demonic beasts, and can I assume they have a supply of crest stones?"

Hubert shifted appearing momentarily uncomfortable. "Unfortunately I think we must assume that's the case. We attempted to limit their access but it's likely that their mages could create a small army of beasts if they so wished."

And on that unsettling note she'd thanked Hubert for his time and gone for a long walk in the gardens to clear her head.

Now, surrounded by the inky darkness that oozed just beyond the reach of Yuri's lamp, Byleth wondered where those who slither in the dark had come from. Their history seem to stretch into the darkest corner of history like the endless tunnel ahead of them.

But it would end with her. Just as the Church of Seiros had.

Yuri paused at another tunnel junction. "We're nearly there," he said, keeping his voice low. "Recently a handful of thieves affiliated with one of the local gangs wandered in here while they were on the run from city authorities. They split up. One made it out. Two ended up being dinner for rats."

Byleth grimaced. "What happened?"

"From what was left, the gang's best guess is they were attacked by a mage." Yuri shrugged. "I'm assuming they stumbled in the viper's nest."

Hand on her hilt, Byleth gave a curt nod. "Then let's be ready."

Yuri offered his most charming smile. "Always."

The locked door at the end of the corridor didn't look special but she noted that Yuri had to put more effort into the lock. When it swung open it was clear they were no longer in the sewer maintenance system.

Compared to the narrow corridors the chamber seemed cavernous. A high ceiling was supported by pillars crowned with stone arches like those of the aboveground aqueducts. The sound of rushing water travelled through the stone, surrounding them. The water itself was an invisible presence, felt yet unseen like a hovering ghost. Light came from a series of panels on the wall that shone though Byleth could not explain the source of the light. It reminded her of the Holy Tomb; it too had been lit, not by torchlight, but by a strange glow emanating from the walls.

And in the centre of the room a figure hunched over a worktable, tools hovering over a metallic device clamped around a spherical stone. It glimmered faintly at the touch of his tools. Next to it, a large sewer rat gnawed at the bars of a wire cage.

The mage's skin was pallid like the flesh of the troglodyte fish she'd pulled up once from a cavern river. Like something that had always been belowground and never known the light of day. But his eyes were as bright as amber beads and they sparked with anger as his head shot up and he saw them there in the doorway. "You!" he snarled.

A bolt of magic sizzled from his fingers and shot out towards the doorway. Byleth and Yuri leapt to either side, blades already drawn.

The mage's attacks came in quick succession, flares of purple exploding through the chamber, keeping Byleth dodging. But moving-ever closer. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Yuri along the edge of the room, circling around the mage. She paused a moment to send a bolt of her own magic towards the mage, drawing his attention to her. Ducking beneath his worktable, he cursed as the bolt singed his arm.

The clashing magic echoed like a thunderstorm as it rebounded on the vaulted stone ceiling, drowning out the distant thrum of rushing water. The mage's hands glowed with virulent purple flames as he rose up again and sneered at her. "Sky Bane!" he roared as he flung his spell. "Fell Star!"

Byleth ducked and rolled and nimbly hopped back to her feet, closer than ever to her enemy. In the past she could have used the Sword of the Creator to simply bat away his spells, but now she had only her skill to rely on, only her own strength to see her through.

And her friends.

Yuri moved before the mage could react and the mage gasped as he felt steel pressed against his throat. "Let's all calm down and have a little chat," Yuri said with perfect ease as he held his dagger with an equally steady hand, just short of drawing blood.

Sword still grasped in her hand, Byleth approached the worktable. The rat was making irate screeches but she forced herself to focus on the mage. She couldn't tell if he was the same one she and Lysithea had overheard during their foray into the city. Was he one of the ones who'd performed experiments on Edelgard? On Lysithea? Had he had a hand in devising the atrocities at Remire?

Her voice was like the chill of a blade against flesh. "What are you doing here?"

He snorted and the movement caused a scarlet bead to ooze out from beneath Yuri's blade. "Easy there, friend," Yuri hissed.

"Why are you here?" Byleth asked again, meeting his amber eyes, looking for something in them, some sign of remorse or fear.

But there was only rage, his features contorting into a grimace. "You're nothing but the Fell Star's discarded shell. You cannot stop the restoration of Agartha." Her eyes darted to something clasped in his fist. His hand moved. So did Yuri's blade.

The mage jabbed at the rat in his cage even as blood spurted from the slash in his throat. Yuri yanked him away from the table, cursing, but Byleth's eyes were drawn to the rat as it shrieked. A viscous black substance had begun enveloping the creature.

"Yuri, get back!"

A second later the rat was engulfed and the pitchy ooze was swelling and bubbling. She had seen this before when Miklan Gautier had been consumed, and again on the Tailtean Plains when Dedue had transformed himself in a last ditch effort to protect Dimitri.

Yuri leaped away, moving out of reach of the blackened limbs that emerged out of the swelling mass of black goo. The form solidified into a hunched body covered with razor sharp bristles and a sinuous tail, barbed at its tip. Bulging red eyes peered down the length of a long pointed snout.

Byleth gripped her sword, her mind racing. During the war she could have taken on a demonic beast alone, but now, without her crest…

There were only two of them and they'd not come equipped for a fight of this scale. She'd come here expecting to learn about demonic beasts, not to face one. Their best chance was to retreat back the way they'd come. The creature's size would prevent it from following and they could return with a proper team.

"Yuri, head for the exit!"

But the rat-like creature was plodding towards him, its tail whipping the ground, leaving cracked stone in its wake. Byleth raised her hand and summoned a bolt of magic. It shot out from her palm and struck the beast's flank with a crack like thunder. Its maw opened, revealing pointed incisors the length of Byleth's forearm, a moment before a piercing shriek echoed through the cavern.

The pointed snout turned in her direction, red eyes fixed on her, incisors snapping. It lunged and Byleth leaped out of the way. It was faster than it looked. She felt more than saw the tail, the air whooshing towards her. She threw herself down onto the flagstones and felt the barbs soar over her head.

Another piercing yowl filled the cavern and when Byleth looked up she found a throwing knife embedded in its left eye. The remaining eye rolled and then fixed on Yuri.

A thud reverberated from the wall behind her as Byleth scrambled to her feet. _What now?_ she thought when the iron door on the far side of the room shuddered and groaned before bursting open. She spun, sword in hand, only to see Edelgard, Hubert, and Lysithea pouring into the room, and, for a beat, froze in utter astonishment.

"Edelgard, what are you—"

"Byleth? How did you—"

"A little help!" Yuri called out as the snapping jaws of the demonic beast lunged at him.

Hubert and Lysithea surged forward but Edelgard stood frozen, eyes wide.

"Is that… a rat?" There was a definite tremor in her voice and in the hand that clutched her axe. For a moment the Emperor of Adrestia seemed to have vanished, replaced by a small, slim girl who was afraid.

Byleth hurried to her side. Edelgard had gone very, very pale. "It's a demonic beast. Like all the monsters we've fought before." She turned her back to the battle, putting herself between Edelgard and the beast so she could look her in the eye. "It's just another monster."

Holding Byleth's gaze, Edelgard took a long, deep breath. Byleth could almost see her collecting herself, building an invisible wall around her worst memories and fears, barring them from her mind. And then the girl was gone and the emperor stood before her again.

In the centre of the chamber, Lysithea and Hubert blasted the creature with magic, leaving it stunned. Byleth glanced at Edelgard. She nodded, and together they surged forward, moving in lockstep, their blades raised high as they charged. Byleth's sword cut deep into the creature's hide. Edelgard's axe cut deeper.

The creature shrieked and batted at them with a clawed forelimb. They leaped away and Byleth's eyes darted to Edelgard as she raised her axe again, one-handed. Her right arm was still healing, still painful to the touch.

Her eyes lingering on Edelgard, Byleth almost missed the telltale twitch of the creature's tail before the barbed appendage whipped through the air towards Lysithea. Byleth barreled forward, putting herself between Lysithea and the beast, legs braced, sword raised in a defensive pose.

She was not prepared for the force of the blow, for how her arms buckled and her feet were knocked out from under her and she was sent hurtling backwards. Her back slammed into something solid, and the air whooshed out of her lungs. For a stunned moment she struggled to breathe, her chest aching and frozen. Was she really so weak without her crest? Was this how it had always been for the other mercenaries at her side? For the students without crests who trained so hard to hone their skills and build up their strength? Was this what it meant to be truly alive—to be always a hair's breadth from dying?

A tight grip on her arm and then someone was tugging her to her feet. "No time for a nap, Professor," Yuri said, dragging her to one side as the demonic beast snapped at them.

A rattling breath came to her and then another and she managed to croak out a "Thank you," and raise her sword again.

Edelgard and Hubert were by the beast's flank, which had been gashed open by Edelgard's axe and charred by Hubert's magic. Lysithea was keeping the beast occupied sending bursts of magic towards its bulging red eyes.

Her chest still aching, Byleth drew in a deep breath. If she didn't have strength she still had speed. "Yuri, with me!"

She rushed forward, Yuri just a pace behind her, and came at the creature from an angle, slashing at its bristly neck, and then darting away again. She motioned for Yuri to move to the other side as it snapped towards her. He slashed at it and darted back before the snapping maw could reach him. She struck again, blade cutting into the same spot, piercing the thick hide so that black ooze seeped from the wound. The demonic beast yowled.

And then Edelgard was beside her, teeth gritted, sweat beading her brow as she raised her axe-one handed and brought it crashing down on the open wound. It sank deep into the black, oozing flesh. The creature shuddered and then went limp, its dark mass crumbling into a pile of fine grey dust.

Byleth approached and knelt to pluck a single solid shard out of the dust. "A crest stone shard."

"Not unexpected," Lysithea said as she joined Byleth to inspect the remains.

When she rose, her eyes turned to Edelgard and her pallor alarmed Byleth so that her heartbeat that had begun to slow after the fighting, picked up again. Edelgard had let the blade of her weapon, still clutched in her left hand, rest on the floor. She noticed Byleth's gaze and looked away, straightening and turning to the others. "What happened here?"

Yuri was wiping his blades clean and wrinkled his nose as he noted the mage's blood that had spattered his clothes. "We happened upon one of Lord Arundel's little stooges and he wasn't pleased to see us."

Hubert raised an eyebrow. "This could be… problematic. We'll need to make arrangements to dispose of the evidence."

"Don't worry yourself about that," Yuri said. "The local gang leader will all too happy to claim this for himself as revenge for what they did to his people. And I'll make sure there's nothing to point to us."

"Very well," Hubert said with an approving nod.

Lysithea had taken the crest stone shard from Byleth and was moving it between her fingers, inspecting its jagged edges. "If only we had a better understanding of the origin of these stones. Why do they have the property to transform living beings like this?"

Yuri kept a close eye on her. "Careful with that. We don't want _you_ transforming."

Lysithea shook her head. "Something more than brief and casual contact is required with such a small fragment."

Byleth suddenly remember the device she'd noticed on the mage's worktable when they'd first arrived. She scanned the scattered remains of his laboratory gear and spotted the clamps, still holding something in their metallic jaws. It took her a few moments to pry the sphere loose, and the touch of it beneath her fingers made her skin crawl. There was a sort of tingling like the energy in the air before a lightning strike. Gingerly, she held the stone in her hand and raised it up to look at it in the light. A crest was inscribed into the stone. A crest she recognised. She had seen this very stone before in the heart of a holy relic.

It was the crest of House Gloucester.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea reveals the findings of her research on the blood reconstruction surgery shortly before Ingrid arrives with unsettling news.

Edelgard led them out of the chamber where they'd fought the demonic beast through the same door she and the others had appeared from. The corridor beyond was narrow and lit only by a handful of lamps tucked into wall sconces. Her injured shoulder must have been painful but she said nothing and had avoided Byleth's eyes as they'd left the chamber.

Byleth kept toward the back of the line, waiting for Yuri, keeping her voice low. "Yuri, do you know where Hapi is?"

He shot her a sideways glance. "I may."

"Can you get her here in time for the wedding? I think we're going to need her special talents." Her stomach twisted just at the thought of the stone in her pocket and what it might mean. She'd last seen it set into Thyrsus, the staff that had been the Hero's Relic of House Gloucester. Lorenz had taken it with him when he'd returned to his family's territory. If the stone was here, then what had become of the staff? And who had given the stone to those who slither in the dark? She'd known someone in the Alliance had been working with the mages; now she knew where to look.

Yuri nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he said with a laugh. "I always repay favours but I expect everyone else to as well."

Edelgard cleared her throat. "Professor, I'm still waiting to hear how you got here."

"How we got here?" Byleth repeated, confused, scanning the stone walls around them, but they gave no clue about where "here" might be.

"I was in discussions with Count Bergliez. He's still adamant that we should send troops to the north. And then I received a message that there were loud noises coming from beneath the palace."

Byleth halted in her tracks. "We’re under the palace?"

Edelgard's voice was taut. "Yes."

_My siblings and I were… We were imprisoned underground, beneath the palace._

Byleth could still hear Edelgard's voice that night, long ago, before the war, when she had revealed the Crest of Flames to her and given Byleth some hint of its cost, of the suffering that had come with its power. That it was here, in these corridors, between these stone walls that the Hresvelg heirs had been held, that the blood reconstruction surgery had been performed… This was where Edelgard's nightmares had begun.

"There are guards stationed at the stair," Edelgard continued as if nothing were amiss, "guards who I can guarantee are loyal to me, and who know to inform me if anyone tries to pass."

"It was not you we were expecting to find here," Hubert said dryly.

"We also weren't expecting demonic beasts," Lysithea added.

Their footfalls echoed off the walls, out of time so that it sounded as if a crowd were marching through the narrow passageways. They passed a series of heavy iron doors, cells Byleth supposed. Cells where Edelgard and her kin had once been imprisoned beneath their own home. "We came in through the maintenance tunnels."

A hum of displeasure from Hubert filled the passageway like a strummed note. "That entrance was not there previously. They must have created a back way in order to circumvent our defences. Troubling."

"Indeed," Edelgard said.

Finally the corridor broadened into a chamber that hosted a spiralling stairway leading back to the surface. Edelgard turned to Hubert. "Can you please have the guards temporarily leave their posts. I'd rather they not speculate about precisely how Yuri and the professor got down here."

Hubert bowed. "As you wish, Lady Edelgard."

"Actually," Yuri said, as Hubert's footsteps faded away, "if it's all the same to you I think I'd best leave the way I came in. It would be in my best interested not to be seen leaving the palace right now."

"Are you sure?" Byleth asked. "It was long way."

"Don't worry about me," he said with a laugh. "You've got enough on your hands to worry about right now."

Edelgard dipped her head. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Your Majesty," he said with a flourish and a bow, before excusing himself and heading back the way they'd come.

Lysithea was making a tour of the room, inspecting every stone and lamp as if looking for clues, but the room was empty save for a wooden bench along one wall and ring of iron keys resting on a peg. Edelgard seemed to be pointedly avoiding Byleth's gaze, determined to look anywhere but in her direction. Yet even in the flickering lamplight it was impossible to miss that Edelgard had not regained her colour and she continued to carry her axe in her left hand. "You're not wearing your sling," Byleth said. The bruising had improved over the past few days, fading from an angry purple to deep pink with a rainbow of pale green and yellow at the edges. It surely remained painful for her to move her right shoulder, though she seemed loath to admit it.

Edelgard shot her a look, here brows drawn. "I spent two hours arguing with Count Bergliez. I can't afford to look weak in front of any of the ministers."

"But—"

"Let's discuss the matter later. _In private_."

Byleth's lips thinned to a line. The physicians had said Edelgard needed to wear the sling for the arm to heal quickly and properly. And how could the ministers possibly think her weak when she'd just survived an assassination attempt? Surely her own health mattered more than that? Byleth balled her hands into fists as she felt her heart starting to thud against her ribs again as it had during the battle. How was she supposed to protect Edelgard if she wouldn't even take care of herself? She couldn't draw back time anymore to prevent injuries. Any mistake, any blow she failed deflect, any stray arrow that found its mark—all were permanent and irreversible now.

All at once Edelgard turned away. "I need to speak to Hubert," she announced. "I'll send him back down once it's safe for you to come up."

Edelgard didn't wait for an answer. As her footsteps faded away Byleth found herself at a loss. Her hands still balled into fists she drew in a sharp breath and tried to silence the argument still running through her thoughts, as if her mind hadn't realized Edelgard had left. In her head she was listing the reasons Edelgard needed to wear the sling, needed to take care of herself as her physician had instructed.

"Professor?"

She was almost startled by Lysithea's tentative query. Byleth's hands relaxed, her shoulders slumped, and all the air whooshed out of her lungs. "Hmm?"

"Do you know how long the mages have been operating here?"

"Since before the war," Byleth answered, again remembering what this place was. If the walls could hold memories it would surely be of children's screams of pain and wails of despair.

"So then…" Lysithea paused and looked up at Byleth. "This where they performed the blood reconstruction surgery on Edlegard and the others."

Byleth's blood felt as cold as the stone walls. "Yes."

Lysithea nodded slowly. "I can see why Edelgard is cross then. I wouldn't want to revisit where they worked on me. How much do you know about the procedure?"

The question startled Byleth. She licked her lips and managed a "Not much," in reply though her mind's eye was filled with the sight of the surgical scars on Edelgard's torso. "I know it involves incisions and that it's very painful."

"That's partially accurate," Lysithea said, head propped up on her fist in that familiar way. "But the incisions aren't the most painful part of the procedure."

Byleth's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

Lysithea shook her head. "The mages' notes we discovered were enlightening and helped me gain a more complete understanding of the procedure. Incisions are made in the subject to access the veins and arteries. A type of mechanical pump is used to draw blood from the vein. Some sort of material is then added to the blood and then it's circulated back into the body."

"I—I don't understand." It was now Byleth's whole body that felt as cold as the surrounding walls, as if she were becoming stone herself. White spots danced in her vision. "They took the blood out of your body and… put it back in?"

"Essentially. And they injected into it the crest-bearing material. The notes didn't explain the precise nature of the material."

"That's… horrible," Byleth croaked. In her mind, Edelgard was in that chamber, strapped to a table, her blood running out of her body. Had she been awake all the while? Screaming and thrashing against her restraints? Surely they had to sedate their test subjects?

When Lysithea spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "The worst part is afterwards. It's like your body isn't your own anymore, like you have acid in your veins instead of blood. It burns you up from the inside. And there were terrible fever dreams. Hallucinations." She took a breath and cleared her throat. "Most subjects survive the initial procedure but not the post-operative illness. From I saw in the notes the initial tests involved large doses of crest-bearing material being injected in one dose. Later procedures used smaller doses over the course of several treatments."

"Several treatments?" Byleth echoed, thinking of the layered scars on Edelgard's body. How many times had they performed the procedure on her? How many times had they cut her open, taken her blood? How many time had she had to endure it, knowing each successive time what was about to happen?

For a minute all Byleth could do was gulp in deep lungfuls of air. Her pulse throbbed in her temples and she thought the unreliable beating mass in her chest might burst. She wished she could have killed that mage herself. She'd wished she'd been holding the dagger that had slit his throat. He had suffered far less than all his victims.

Heart still hammering her ribs, Byleth turned Lysithea. "We're going to put an end to them."

Lysithea nodded, her eyes steely. "I'm counting on it."

By the time Hubert returned to tell them the coast was clear, Edelgard had long since returned to her meeting. The emperor did not make an appearance in the castle dining hall that evening and Byleth realized she must be looking rather miserable because Dorothea dragged her over to sit with her and Petra and chattered away for the whole of the meal.

When they had finished eating and the castle staff had taken away their plates Dorothea insisted they all go for a stroll to walk off the meal, and Byleth didn’t have the heart to protest. In the brief silences all she could see was the image of a painfully young Edelgard hooked up to some ghastly mechanism taking her blood and returning it to her body transformed. It was worse than what Rhea had done and far worse than Byleth had imagined.

"Professor," Dorothea said gently, once they'd wandered into an empty corridor, "what's wrong? You're not yourself. You barely ate."

She had no appetite. Her stomach had lurched and squirmed after only a few mouthfuls. She had known Edelgard had suffered—she had known it since that night at the academy when she'd found Edelgard in the throes of a nightmare—but she had never known it so viscerally. The sight of her scars had filled her with something else, not pity, but tenderness, the desire to comfort her. But not _this_ , this sickening, hollowed-out rage. She felt like a gutted fish, all it viscera removed and tossed aside, helpless and hollow-eyed.

"Dorothea is correct," Petra said. "You are looking below the temperature."

Dorothea smiled fondly and patted Petra's hand. "Under the weather."

" _Tapadh leat_ ," Petra replied in what Byleth recognised as the language of Brigid.

" _'S e do bheatha_ ," Dorothea replied—haltingly—and Byleth smiled.

"You're leaning the Brigid tongue?" she asked.

Dorothea nodded. "I'm trying to. Though… Let's just say I'm not as quick a study as Petra."

Petra shook her head at this. "She is being modestly. Dorothea is a very good student."

"She is," Byleth agreed.

"Oh stop it, both of you. You'll make me blush. And you, professor are avoiding the topic."

Dorothea and Petra had both had difficult childhoods, had both at a young age, been pushed into a world that cared little for them. For Dorothea it had been the streets of Enbarr; for Petra, Adrestia in all its foreignness. An orphan and a hostage. Yet both had fought and worked and thrived. The sight of her friends, their obvious happiness, had, for a moment, washed away the dark film that seemed slathered over her heart. Her face fell as it returned to her full force.

She couldn't protect Edelgard from her past, couldn't fight the monsters that came to her in sleep. But how could she protect her from the daylight's monsters when Edelgard wouldn't do what was necessary to care for herself? Her injury had not been a minor one and the more she strained it, the longer it would take to completely heal. She was so determined to avoid showing any sign of weakness, even to her allies, yet Byleth's own weakness was obvious to everyone, it seemed. She could feel them all looking at her, noticing the change in her. She was not the same person who had led them into battle. She was not what she had been then.

Byleth shook her head. "I… can't discuss it." And then, more abruptly than was really polite, she turned on her heel. "I have to go. Goodnight to you both."

She'd almost reached Edelgard's quarters when one of the palace staff stopped her to inform her that one of her former students had just arrived. Puzzled, Byleth followed the man down to the main hall where she found Ingrid, still draped in travel clothes, her hair windswept, her cheeks pink from the cold air.

Ingrid strode up to her, a tight smile on her lips. "Professor it's so good to see you."

"Likewise. You're early." They weren't expecting guests to start arriving for the Hervor ball until next week.

Her smile grew wider. "I realize that but I… couldn't help myself. I heard rumours you'd be formally announcing your engagement. Can we have tea tomorrow? I'd love to catch up with you. And hear _all about_ the wedding."

For several seconds Byleth could do little more than stand there and blink dumbly. "You would?"

Ingrid kept that smile plastered on her face. "Yes. Very much."

"All right. I'll put it in my schedule," Byleth said, in spite of her bewilderment. Ingrid had never been one to care about formal occasions. In fact she'd been known to avoid events that involved makeup or elaborate dress like her life depended on it.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Professor." The smile on her face was starting to look painful. "Oh it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around Byleth, taking the professor completely by surprise. But before she drew back and headed off for the night she whispered something that chilled Byleth's blood.

"Rhea's bones are missing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I've got a few chapters ready so it's just a matter of getting them cleaned up enough to post. Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed and who's still following this story-- I truly appreciate it. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid arrives with news that someone has interfered with the remains of the Immaculate One.

"So…" Dorothea drawled as she raised the cup of sweet-apple tea to her lips. "Have you made up with Edie yet?" She sipped her tea and glanced at Byleth expectantly.

Byleth tilted her head and peered at her. She'd invited Dorothea to join her for tea with Ingrid to further the impression of the palace staff—and any of Arundel's spies among them—that this really was nothing but tea between old friends. A pot of steaming tea and a collection of savoury pastries waited on the table in the parlour of Byleth's quarters for Ingrid's arrival. "I… haven't actually seen her yet today."

Dorothea's eyebrows shot up. "Not at all?"

That first night, Edelgard had asked her to stay. Byleth had not made her ask again. After that she'd simply stayed, rubbing Manuela's ointment onto Edelgard's wound before bed each night. But last night she'd been asleep by the time Edelgard had returned. And then Byleth had woken from a dream—a nightmare—and gotten up to walk the grounds. _Is this the world you wanted to create?_ In the dream, Rhea's grating roar had driven Byleth to her knees. No longer the vessel of Sothis, no longer the wielder of Divine Pulse. _Is this the world you wanted to create?_ Rhea had devoured her whole and she'd been powerless to stop her.

She'd walked until dawn. But even amid the trees and greenery, Rhea's voice had never left her.

"Professor?"

Byleth gave herself a shake. "No, I haven't spoken to her since yesterday."

"Well that's no good. Did you have an argument?"

"No. Not exactly. I just—" Her brow furrowed. She raised the cup of tea to her lips and sipped to try to buy herself a moment to gather her thoughts. The exchange yesterday still bothered her, how adamant Edelgard was in her refusal to wear the sling, how she'd cut off any protests, how she'd vanished so abruptly afterwards. Had she really been arguing with the ministers for the rest of the day or had she just wanted to avoid the issue? Avoid _her_.

Dorothea's fingers came to rest on her arm as she said, very gently, "Are you angry with her?"

"No. Maybe. I—I'm not sure." The disagreement yesterday, the description of blood reconstruction surgery, the demonic beast, the stone of Gloucester, Rhea's bones… Everything swirled around like a tattered net caught in stormy currents until it was tangled beyond use. Pulled in so many directions at once, how could she be expected to know what she felt?

"Even the people we love make us angry sometimes. That's normal, Professor. Truly." Byleth's brow furrowed. Was it normal? She couldn't remember ever being angry with her father, but then she'd never been happy or sad or much of anything for most of her years with him. Everything has seemed muted, as if by a drizzling mist that leeched the vividness of even the brightest landscape.

When Byleth didn't reply, Dorothea went on. "Avoiding each other won't help. Edie is used to carrying everything on her own—you know how she is. You need to remind her to share."

Sharing their burdens was what Edelgard had said the would do, that day at the Goddess Tower. Byleth had wanted so much to help carry Edelgard's burdens, but now she had her own concerns to share. She had delivered the stone of Gloucester to Hanneman for safekeeping—and study, she was sure—and sworn him to secrecy. He would know how to safely handle the stone at least. And now this matter about Rhea's bones…

Before Byleth could put together a proper reply, there was a knock on the door and one of the palace staff announced Ingrid Brandl Galatea had arrived for tea. There was a flutter of greetings and tea being poured, and pastries being offered, before the palace staff finally left the trio to their own devices.

Ingrid slumped and let out a monstrous sigh when they were alone. Dorothea giggled. "Oh Ingrid, I thought you liked tea parties with the professor."

Ingrid shot Dorothea a disapproving look. "Don't tease, Dorothea. You know very well that tea was much less elaborate at Garreg Mach."

"It's the imperial capital," Dorothea replied, raising her tea cup in a little salute. "You're lucky if you can sneeze without having a ceremony."

"Things are a bit less formal in the north." Her gaze dropped. "Especially right now," she said quietly, her fingers interlaced in a tight knot. "The news of the assassination attempt reached us several days ago." Ingrid straightened and met Byleth's eyes. "How is she?"

"She's recovering well," Byleth said, though in her mind's eye she could see it all again: the bolt in Edelgard's shoulder, her paleness, the grimace as she insisted she'd suffered worse, the green and purple bruises on her pale skin, the sling she wouldn't wear in public. But she kept her expression calm, neutral.

Ingrid shut her eyes for a moment and let out a long breath. "Thank goodness."

"But how are things in the Kingdom? Is it still as bad as your last report suggested?"

"Yes. Things are very unstable. Each of us is trying to hold things together in our own territories while also managing refugees from Fhirdiad."

For the people of Fhirdiad who had seen Rhea's troops torch the city that had offered her refuge, it was easy to let the Church of Seiros fall away. But something had to fill the void and for now it was remnants of the imperial army, specifically divisions led by generals who had defected from the Kingdom themselves. Anette and Mercedes were among those still stationed in the fire-ravaged capital. They'd been operating out of the Royal School of Sorcery, which had survived relatively unscathed, trying to organize both supplies and manpower to rebuild homes and feed those left destitute by Rhea's flames.

"More supplies are on the way," Byleth assured. "We'll get through this winter together."

Ingrid nodded. "Thank you."

"Now about that news you mentioned yesterday…"

A shadow seemed to pass over Ingrid's features.

"Drink your tea," Dorothea said gently. "Before it gets cold."

"Yes of course," Ingrid murmured and brought the cup to her lips. When she looked up. Her gaze moved from Byleth to rest on Dorothea. "Did the professor tell you about the arrangements we made for… well… for the archbishop's remains?"

Dorothea shrugged. "I got the abridged version, that they were dragged into an intact room of the palace and placed under guard."

Ingrid grimaced. "I'm afraid it was a bit more grizzly than that."

Though the battle had been won when Byleth and Edelgard felled Rhea, the fire had continued to ravage the city for hours afterwards. By the time magic and endless water lines had subdued the fire, it had already swept over Rhea's corpse and charred her once-white hide and blackened the bones beneath. They had used soldiers and horses to haul chunks of blackened flesh and bone into the palace. It had taken days, and the scent of charred flesh, like rotten meat held over a campfire, had clung to Byleth's clothes, to her hair, no matter how much she scrubbed. It had clung to her until they'd left Fhirdiad.

Dorothea shuddered. "I still have nightmares about that battle."

The teacup Byleth had been about to pick up rattled against its saucer and she set it back down.

_Is this the world you wanted to create?_

For a moment she could have sworn the acrid scent of charred meat wafted to her nostrils again.

Dorothea shook her head and sighed. "It's still hard to believe that that monster we fought was the archbishop—the same person we knew at the academy. "

"Rhea was always both," Byleth said darkly. She was kind to those who obeyed but mercilessly struck down any who defied her. She was both woman and monster. But then perhaps, Byleth thought, she herself was no different.

A neat stack of stuffed meat puffs remained on the gilt-edged plates, but Byleth had no appetite, the wafting smell of beef and cloves making her slightly queasy. "The bones," she said looking back to Ingrid. "What's happened?"

Ingrid nodded. "I've been checking on them whenever I'm in Fhirdiad—I know the others have as well—but you must understand it's… an unpleasant task and we just perform a cursory check. We step in the chamber and the bones are there—there never seemed any need to look more closely."

"And now?"

Ingrid bent her head. When she looked up again, her brow was deeply furrowed. "When I last checked, something seemed different. Out of place somehow. So I entered the chamber and took a closer look." She paused for a mouthful of tea, but her gaze was distant as if returning to the chamber with its heaps of bone and ashy flesh. "There are pieces missing. Mostly smaller pieces I think—vertebrae, teeth, things that would be difficult to account for. I would never have noticed except that some of the larger pieces had been disturbed. It looked as if some of the bones had been sawed. Some of the pieces around the sternum and ribs that were still… fleshy."

Byleth's hand flitted to her chest and the pulse heartbeat deep beneath her own bones. What could they possibly want with the pieces of Rhea's corpse? How did this play into their plans, for surely it could be the work of no one else but those who slither in the dark.

"I’m sorry, Professor," Ingrid said, hanging her head. "One of the guards must have helped smuggle pieces out but we’ve no idea who, or even when. It could have been weeks ago."

"No," Byleth said, "this is my fault. We should've dealt with it sooner. I should have anticipated this."

"How could you, though?" Dorothea said softly. "When you don't even know what they want them for?"

Byleth shook her head, something welling up from her gut, tightening her chest and all the muscles of her body. She tried to breathe around it but, the meaty spell of the pastries wafted to her nostrils again and it took all her will not to fling the plates across the room to smash against the far wall. What good was she to Edelgard and to everyone else if she couldn't anticipate Arundel's plans? If she lacked her former strength and the ability to turn back the hands of time, then all that remained was experience on the field and tactical abilities. If those too proved inadequate, then what good was she to anyone?

Dorothea's hand was warm as her fingers brushed Byleth's. "Professor, are you all right?"

She let out a growl of frustration. "I need to think." She needed a blade in her hand and a target in front her, the clarity of familiar movement. So when they were done with tea, Byleth headed to the palace training grounds and spent her frustration in swordwork.

#

The water rippled around Byleth's body as she shifted in the bath. Garreg Mach had had running water in shared areas, but it was a strange luxury to have a private bathroom now. She had been to other cities like Enbarr that had aqueducts and public bath houses but the sunken tub filled with steaming water all for her was something she'd have found unfathomable in her old life.

She held still at the sound of a soft tread outside the door. And then a voice calling her name. "Byleth?"

She found herself smiling. El was the only person who used her name. Her friends still insisted on calling her "Professor" and acquaintances referred to her as General Eisner, though soon that too would be replaced with another title when she became Edelgard's consort. "I'm here," she called out.

The door opened, Edelgard stepped in, and then with a tiny gasp, spun on her heel so her back was facing the room. "You're in the bath," she croaked.

"I wanted to soak after some training."

She'd hammered at the practice dummies until her shoulders had ached and her arms could barely lift her sword any longer. In the past, the wood and straw dummies would have been reduced to pulp long before she'd worn herself out. But that was before, when her crest had, unbeknownst to her, given her inhuman strength. So much was wrong—the stone of Gloucester, Rhea's missing bones, the mages' experimentation on Edelgard—and here she was so painfully human.

"I—I can come back later."

And Edelgard's stammer—so unlike her normal, resolute self—made Byleth cast her a long look. Her neck and ears were violently pink. After a lifetime spent in mercenary camps, nudity during bathing wasn't something that caused Byleth embarrassment. It hadn't occurred to her that Edelgard's experience would be so different and she tried to conceal her amusement at Edelgard's bashfulness. "No need," she said calmly. "I was done in here. I'll get dressed if there's something you wanted to talk about."

"Yes," Edelgard said and then cleared her throat and began again. "Yes there is. I'll wait for you in the sitting room." And without further comment she marched out of the room.

Hurriedly, Byleth toweled herself off and tugged on her clothes. Still tired from yesterday's sleepless night, she'd been planning to go to bed so she'd only brought a sleeping shirt and shorts. It would have to do.

Perched on the sitting room divan, Edelgard turned when Byleth entered the room and her eyes lingered, sliding over Byleth's wet locks and sleepwear. Edelgard remained in her emperor's robes and her hair was still bound up so she must not have been planning to retire for the evening yet. There was a stiffness to her posture, her spine straight, shoulders squared, as if she were preparing to face the ministers. No, this wasn't El, but the emperor. And still no sling in sight.

The relief Byleth had felt moments ago when she'd heard Edelgard's voice calling her name was swept away by a wash of uncertainty. She sat, leaving a space between them, and, carefully watching Edelgard's features, asked, "Are you still angry?"

Edelgard started. "No. Of course not." She let out a long breath. "I suppose I was for a time yesterday but then I spent the rest of the day trying to rein in Count Bergliez." Her fingers reached out as if to grasp Byleth's hand but then drew back. "This morning… you were already gone when I woke."

Byleth heaved a sigh. "I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep."

"I thought perhaps you were avoiding me."

Byleth shook her heard. "You've been taking meals privately. I thought _you_ were avoiding _me_."

"I'm sorry. I should have sent you a note to explain. It was in sessions with Hubert and Ferdinand and then strategy and logistics with Counts Bergliez and Hevring. I haven't had a moment to myself all day. Lord Arundel has been working on the other ministers. He seems determined to have us move our forces north."

"He's trying to distract us from what's going on in the east, trying to keep our eyes off of Gloucester."

Edelgard straightened and looked at Byleth with alarm. "You've learned something."

"Quite a few things." Byleth dragged a hand over her face, letting out a heavy sigh. "Yesterday was… eventful. So was this morning."

She told her about the stone of Gloucester and repeated everything Ingrid had shared that morning. For a minute, Edelgard remained silent, her brow deeply furrowed. Finally, she sighed. "I'll need to think on this. If Count Gloucester is one of our enemies then he may move against us in the Alliance territories. If we can't cross the bridge of Myrddin it will jeopardize everything."

"I agree. We'll need to leave Lorenz out of our plans to be safe. But if we move against Gloucester it will reflect badly on us, won't it?

"Yes. He's supported the Empire from the start. To undermine him now would make us appear fickle to our allies. Unreliable."

"We need someone else who can do it." Byleth shook her head. "We need Claude. There's no one else who can act as neutral party in the east."

"He hasn't been seen since Derdriu."

"Someone must know where he is. Marianne will be here soon for the ball. I can start there." Byleth sighed, weariness settling on her shoulders like a sodden wool blanket. "I'm not sure what to make of Ingrid's news. It has to be Arundel's forces behind it."

Edelgard nodded. "Undoubtedly."

"But why? What can they do with the bones? Make demonic beasts?"

Edelgard did not immediately reply and her gaze seemed to have turned inward, as if she had called up some memory and was inspecting it from ever angle like a faceted gem.

"At the Holy Tomb…" Byleth began slowly. "Your forces wanted the bones too. Were you collecting them for Arundel?"

Edelgard lifted her eyes to meet Byleth's. "Yes."

"What for?"

"I don't know precisely. For their experiments perhaps or to create weapons. They _made_ Aymr for me. It is not a true relic but since we were unable to secure the Sword of the Creator or the Sword of Seiros they managed to create a weapon of similar power that would resonate with my minor crest." She shook her head. "I know nothing of the method of its creation."

A grow of frustration poured out of Byleth's throat. "They don't have crests. What use could they have for making relics now?"

"I don't know," Edelgard said with a sigh.

For a minute silence hung between them until Byleth finally asked, "How's your shoulder today?"

"Better. Only a dull ache. You needn't worry so much."

Byleth frowned and tried to settle her emotions but she felt like a puzzle whose pieces were scattered and badly in need of assembling. The sound of shifting fabric drew her attention, and when she looked up, Edelgard had slipped off her red gloves and was reaching out to take her hands. Byleth's fingers soaked in the warmth of Edelgard's palms. "Byleth," she said softly. "I've been injured before. Why does this worry you so?"

She couldn't meet Edelgard's eyes. "Because I—Before… when I had Sothis's power, I could have prevented it." Her face felt hot as the words spilled out of her. "I told you about the power I had, how I could turn back time. If I still had that power I could have turned back a few moments, enough to block the blow and prevent you from being hurt. Now I…"

Edelgard's hands squeezed hers tightly. "I'm sorry, my teacher. You lost such power… all because you chose to follow me. Do you… Do you regret it?"

Byleth looked up and held Edelgard's gaze. "No. Never." And then, looking down at their joined hands, "But I'm so much weaker without the Crest of Flames."

"I will always want you by my side, crest or no crest. That hasn't changed. We will deal with those who slither in the dark as we always have—together."

But crest or no crest she still wanted to protect Edelgard and her thoughts roiled when she thought of all they'd done to her. They'd given Edelgard the crest, transformed her into a tool for their war, and now that that role had been accomplished they'd tried to dispose of her.

She gripped Edelgard's arms. "I will never let them touch you again." And then she pressed her mouth against Edelgard's as if she could convey the strength of her resolve through the fervour of her lips.

Edelgard leaned into Byleth and her fingers were hot against Byleth's skin where they slipped under her sleeping shirt. Those warm hands were adventurous, sliding along her back, sending shivers down Byleth's spine. They paused on every scar, explored the taut muscles of her belly, the hard rungs of her ribs, and the gentle curve of her breasts.

And all the while Byleth yearned to press her own skin against Edelgard's but she was in her emperor's regalia and all Byleth could touch was her face. So she cupped Edelgard's face and ran the pads of her thumbs over her cheeks and kissed her until her lips ached and her heart thrummed and all she wanted in the world was to fill herself with Edelgard, to drown herself in the one she loved.

The chime of the palace belltower announcing the hour made Edelgard draw back. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide as she stared at Byleth, "I have—"

"A meeting?" Byleth groaned.

"Yes," Edelgard said with a laugh and then proceeded to straighten her rumpled dress. "I'm sorry. I expect I'll be late again. But you should rest."

"All right. I'll be in bed when you get back." And then, reaching out to gently brush her fingers over Edelgard's cheek, "And when you wake up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've almost caught up the what I've finished writing so updates are probably going to be a bit slower. It typically takes me two to three weeks to complete a chapter. Because I'm slow and have to work to pay bills and all that. ;) But on a fun note the Hervor Ball is coming up soon and who doesn't like a masked ball, right?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasked with discovering Claude's whereabouts, Byleth must confront someone she fought in the war.

A pair of curving marble stairways descended into the imperial palace's grand hall, which buzzed with activity as nobles of every stripe, attendants in tow, meandered towards the dining hall where a light, informal lunch was being served in advance of tonight's feast. Tucked in against the base of a statue of Emperor Wilhelm I, set on the small gallery atop the stairs, Byleth could watch them all without drawing attention to herself.

She picked out familiar faces in the hubbub of flowing capes and glittering gowns. There was Ferdinand surrounded by a cluster of middle-aged moustached men offering their hands and bowing deeply to the Prime Minister. And there, Ashe, now head of House Gaspard, looking ill-at-ease as a servant approached to offer him refreshments. Sylvain was flashing a smile at a young lady Byleth thought might be a cousin of Caspar's while Felix, leaning against a column near the entry, watched the proceedings with obvious contempt.

Many of the others were strangers: minor nobles from around Adrestia who were rarely in the capital; the ruling lords of the former Alliance, all but strangers to Byleth, so few dealings had she had with them during the war; the many relatives of her allies in Faerghus. Tonight at the Hervor Ball she would be presented to all of them as Edelgard's consort-to-be.

But for the present, as she'd seen no trace of the person she needed to speak to, she retreated back down the second-floor hallway, away from bustle and gossip, and towards the guest quarters. The east wing of the palace boasted dozens of guest rooms, nearly all filled at present. None were as lavish as Edelgard's suites of course but, adorned with thick rugs and tapestries, filled with mahogany and oak furniture, they were, by Byleth's modest standards, opulent, each and every one. It was strange to think that this was normal for so many of her former students whereas most of her life she'd spent nights in a tent or in a bedroll under the stars. A cot at an inn had been a luxury back then.

The palace staff glanced at her as she passed but only bobbed their heads and went about their business when they recognized her. After tonight, they would bow. The thought made Byleth uneasy as she passed by door after door, until she reached the one assigned to house Goneril. She steeled herself before knocking. After her recent conversation with Marianne, Byleth fully expected the worst.

Marianne had arrived two days ago and Byleth had invited her to another of her many covert-meetings-with-tea. She'd given her the rundown of their plans against Arundel's forces and then told her about her concerns about Lorenz's father before finally asking what had been weighing on her for days now. "Do you know where I can find Claude?"

Marianne sighed. "I’m so sorry, Professor. I wish I could help you but, no. I have no idea where's he's gone."

Byleth frowned into her cinnamon-infused tea. "Who else might know?" She knew the answer before Marianne had even replied.

"Hilda. Claude never liked to share his secrets, but he trusted her more than anyone else. She stood by him during the war after all." Sadness was plain on Marianne's features.

"You did what you believed was right," Byleth said softly.

She nodded. "I know. But so did Hilda."

"She's still mad, isn't she?" Hilda had met them at the battle of Derdriu and, in spite of her appearance of nonchalance, had refused to back down. Byleth had faced her herself and it was only thanks to Marianne's healing that Hilda was alive at all. When Byleth had struck her down, she'd thought it would be the end of her.

Marianne shook her head. "Hilda didn't see the things we did, the things Lady Rhea did. And she hasn't suffered because of her crest the way some of us have. It's harder for her to understand your view of things."

Byleth sipped her tea some more and mechanically stuffed a piece of fruit cake into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed, without so much as tasting it. "Is she coming to the ball? Or is Holst coming instead?"

"She's coming. I'm afraid she didn't want to," Marianne added apologetically. "But Holst insisted."

"I see." _We're on opposite sides now_ , Hilda had said that day. _What a shame_. She'd announced she wouldn't hold back, but even with her Crest of Goneril was no match for the strength the Crest of Flames had bestowed on Byleth.

"I can talk to her if you'd like, Professor."

Byleth heaved a sigh. "No, I need to fix this myself."

And so here she was, hours before the ball, standing outside Hilda's guest room, hesitant to knock. How did you apologise to someone for a war that you believed had been just? If only Hilda had stood down. If only Hilda had trusted her to spare Claude—as indeed she had.

Gathering her scattered thoughts, Byleth tried to school her expression as she raised her fist and knocked on the door. The attendant who answered peered at her for a moment and asked for her name. But before she could get more than a syllable out Hilda popped out of the back room. "Who is it? Oh. It's you, Professor. I was hoping it was Marianne. What a shame."

"Hilda, I need to speak with you."

"With little old me?" She tossed her hair and batted her eyes. "I'm sure you have more important things to do. What with being future empress and all that."

"Consort," Byleth corrected automatically. The attendant, looking suddenly pale, dipped low in a curtsey, much to Byleth's dismay.

"So the rumours really are true," Hilda said.

"Yes," Byleth replied, still standing in the doorway as she hadn't been invited in.

"Well congratulations, Professor. And I'd love to catch up and all but I really need to—"

"Hilda, why don't we go to the training room?"

Hilda grimaced. "Training? I can't afford to get all sweaty when there's a ball this evening."

"I think we're due for a rematch."

"Why?" Hilda said with a huff. "So you can trounce me again and leave me for dead?"

Byleth met her defiant stare with one of her own. "I'm not as strong as I used to be."

Finally Hilda sighed and rolled her eyes. "All right then. Let's get this over with."

#

With all the noble guests in the palace, most of the palace guards were occupied and they had the training area all to themselves. Hilda had changed into appropriate trainingwear and hefted an absurdly large axe over her shoulder as if it were nothing more than a wooden training weapon. Byleth drew her sword and gave a nod.

Hilda heaved a sigh and took a half-hearted swipe at Byleth, who dodged easily. "All right, professor, I'll bite. Why aren't you so strong anymore? Does it have something to do with how you look like your old self again?"

"Yes. It does." Byleth lashed out with a quick strike, forcing Hilda to parry. "I don't have a crest anymore." Hilda appeared confused and Byleth, taking advantage, leapt in close. Only at the last moment did Hilda swing her axe around to bat Byleth away.

"That's not possible. People don't just lose their crests."

"I wasn't born with my crest. It was… given to me. By Rhea. When I defeated her, I lost the crest's power."

Hilda didn't answer immediately, a ridge forming in her brow as she considered the information. She swung her axe in a wide arc to drive Byleth back. "Why are you telling me this?"

Byleth jabbed, lazily testing Hilda's defences, waiting for her to wake up and fight properly as she had that day in Derdriu. "I need your help."

"With what?"

"I need to find Claude." Something flashed in Hilda's eyes. Byleth slashed and this time Hilda's axe shot up quickly and then shoved her backwards, making Byleth stumble.

"What a shame," Hilda said with smile that didn't touch her eyes. "I don't know where he is."

"I think you do." Byleth slashed and hacked, delivering a succession of quick blows which Hilda easily countered. And then Hilda swung her axe, chopping at Byleth as if she wished to hew an immense oak. Byleth parried and dodged away, feeling the woosh of the axe as it split the air next to her.

"Since we're having this chat," Hilda said, appearing not the least bit winded, "I've been wondering… This thing with you and Edelgard…"

"Thing?" Byleth repeated, watching Hilda's stance carefully as she waited for the next strike.

"The engagement. Is that for real or part of Edelgard's plan to woo the masses by marrying someone from outside the nobility?"

Byleth's hands spasmed around her sword hilt, knuckles white. "Of course it's real!" Anger, white-hot and searing like the Immaculate One's flames, roared through her. Her heart surged against her ribs. "I love Edelgard!"

Was this what everyone thought? That it was a political alliance? That Edelgard was just using her as a figurehead for her new system of rule? The commoner who had earned her way into the emperor's graces? Into the emperor's bed? Was that what they saw?

The wide-eyed surprise on Hilda's face brought Byleth back to herself. She took several long, steadying breaths.

Hilda was watching her, head tilted to one side. "You _are_ different, Professor. At the academy you always had this blank expression. It was so hard to tell what you were really thinking, but now…"

Hilda's feet shifted and Byleth raised her blade. The axehead crashed down against her sword, the screech of metal against metal grating her eardrums. Hilda's professed indifference had evaporated and, with a two-handed grip on her haft, she bore down on Byleth's blade with the full force of the Crest of Goneril.

"You and Edelgard started a war! So many people died just so you could recreate the Adrestian Empire."

"That's not what it was about," Byleth snarled. She gulped in air, muscles screaming as she tried to hold Hilda at bay. "The Church—"

"The Church wasn't so bad," Hilda scoffed.

"Rhea—"

"Okay so Lady Rhea was some sort of monster-thing I guess but still…" Hilda's words came easily while Byleth's breath came raggedly. The axe blade seemed closer, the gleaming metal dividing the space between them.

"The world couldn't change while Rhea was controlling us all. Using the crests to—"

"And you couldn't change things without destroying everything?"

"We didn't have a choice. You don't know about those who—"

"Really? You didn't have a choice? You almost killed me and dear old Claude and now you want our help? Why didn't you ask for our help before you started a war? Maybe you'd have had a choice then."

Byleth's arms strained and shook. Sweat rolled down her face. She wasn't used to fighting stronger opponents but she still sparred with Edelgard for this very reason—it was something she needed to know how to do now. To escape this deadlock and win this match she would need to roll away, dodge, perhaps abandon her sword and pull the dagger from her belt. But she didn't think winning the match would win Hilda over. Hilda need to see that truth about her crest, to see her diminished.

During the war it had been her strength that had led them to victory. Perhaps now it would be her weakness.

Byleth's arms buckled.

The axe sliced downwards as Byleth gave one final heave to divert its path. White fire seared the right side of her body, just below her hip. Hilda, looking startled, scrambled back, axe still in hand. She looked from the professor to the axe and her eyes widened as she reached out to touch the blade and found a trace of blood marring the glinting steel.

Byleth stood, grimacing as she felt the sting of the cut. A graze, nothing more. But it throbbed with every pulse of her still-racing heart.

"So it's true," Hilda said softly. "You really have lost your crest."

"It's true."

Hilda set down her axe and heaved a sigh. "Now I need to get cleaned up so I can look presentable for the ball. I'll hear you out but make it quick, Professor."

So Byleth told her—not everything, not about the plan, but she relayed what she knew about those who slither in the dark, how they had been manipulating events for years, of Rhea's reign and all her lies, and of the suspected agent working for Arundel in former alliance territories, though she did not name him. Hilda's expression was by turns incredulous, perplexed, and exasperated.

"So you're telling me not only was Lady Rhea the Immaculate One, she was also immortal and she was really Saint Seiros and she was actually running the Church for the last thousand years?"

"Right," Byleth said, though silently hoping her recounting of events had sounded more convincing.

"And these slither people were working with you guys because they really hated Lady Rhea and now that she's gone they want to run things?"

"Likely."

Hilda nodded and gave a bright smile. "Oh I see. So basically you want Edelgard to run things instead."

"Yes. No. That's not what I—" She broke off and scowled at Hilda who was clearly amused at being able to flummox the formerly unflappable professor. "Those who slither in the dark have committed terrible atrocities."

"Worse than starting a war?"

"Yes."

Hilda quirked an eyebrow. "You're serious."

"They don't value human life. They use people and discard them." When Hilda remained silent Byleth went on. "The people of Fódlan have been manipulated by unseen forces for centuries. By Rhea and the children of the goddess and by those who slither in the dark. Rhea created the Church and used the crest system to control us, to make the houses bend to her will as archbishop. And those who slither in the dark have worked to sow chaos and destabilize things while they try to unseat her. We'll never be able to choose our own path until we're free of outside interference."

Heaving an immense sigh, Hilda dropped down onto a bench. "That's a lot to swallow, Professor. And I think I'm the wrong person to be making a call on this. You can't count on me to make a _huge_ decision like this. I guess I'll just have to let Claude make that call."

Byleth straightened immediately and had to suppress a grimace as her leg protested. "So you'll tell me where I can find him?"

"Oh no, Professor," Hilda said with another of those not-quite smiles. "If you want to talk to him you're going to have to come with me. After the ball, of course."

"Come with you?" Byleth repeated, her brow furrowing. They needed Claude, but she couldn't leave Enbarr, leave Edelgard, at this critical juncture. "I can't just—"

"I'll be heading to the port of Mannin. I'll send you a note later about where to meet me." And before Byleth could think of what more to say she flashed a broad smile. "Time to go get ready for the party. A girl has to look her best after all." Hilda rose to her feet and tossed her axe over her shoulder as she turned to go. "You think it over, Professor, and let me know."

#

By the time Byleth reached her quarters, the gash in her thigh had becoming a throbbing ache. She'd perhaps understated things when she'd decided it was only a graze: it would require stitches or healing magic to seal it up.

Edelgard was on the divan in the inner sitting room, reviewing what looked like a stack of reports. She glanced up as Byleth entered. "Oh there you are. The seamstress was looking for you." She waved a hand vaguely. "Something about the fit of your tunic for tonight's—Are you limping?"

"I'm okay," Byleth assured her as Edelgard sprang to her feet. "I was sparring with Hilda."

"And you let her hurt you?" Edelgard's expression was a mix of concern and disapproval, her lips thinned, her brows drawn, but her eyes soft as they flitted between Byleth's face and her injured leg. "We've trained together these past months. Even without the strength from your crest you're not someone to be trifled with. This wasn't an accident."

"I needed Hilda to see that she _could_ hurt me."

Edelgard let out a slow breath and then took Byleth's arm and led her to the divan. "Sit." She pulled back the hem of Byleth's long jacket, surreptitiously drawn over her leg, and inspected the wound. "This needs to be seen to."

"Can you have someone call Dorothea? I'd rather no one know about this."

Edelgard did and then returned, sighing as she took a seat next to her. "Really, Byleth… Now? When we have the presentation ceremony tonight."

"I'm sorry. Hilda only arrived this morning." She reached out and squeezed Edelgard's hand. "I'll be fine by tonight, I promise." But then, bringing Edelgard's hand to her heart, "But there's something else…" She could feel the ring against her palm, the ring she'd given Edelgard that day in the Goddess Tower when she'd promised to always stand by her. "Hilda knows where Claude is but she insists I go with her to see him. After the ball."

For a moment Edelgard wouldn't meet her eyes. "I was afraid of something like this." When she looked back up she'd schooled her features, determination glinting in her eyes like forged steel. "There's nothing for it, you must go find him. We can't risk being denied access to the Bridge of Myrdon."

Something in Byleth's chest quivered and it was as if a piece of her had been sheared away leaving her like a chipped blade. "I can't just leave you alone. Not now when—"

"I am fully capable of managing on my own—as you well know." After all, Edelgard had managed a war without Byleth's help for half a decade. But Byleth knew as no one else did, how much of a strain it had been, even with the Black Eagles at her side. "You'll need a cover story, something that won't alarm Arundel." Byleth didn't answer and let Edelgard mull things over for a minute.

"Dorothea and Petra intend to leave for Brigid after the ball," Edelgard said finally. "You could travel with them and then part ways to join Hilda."

Byleth dropped her gaze. "I don't like this."

"I must confess, I don't much care for it either," Edelgard said, taking Byleth's hands. "But for now we need to get you patched up and—"

"El," Byleth murmured and pulled Edelgard in against her. Her injured leg still burned but with Edelgard's warmth seeping into her, it seemed a vague and distant discomfort. The greater discomfort was the way her chest tightened at the thought of going, of being parted when Edelgard had so many enemies, so many who wished to do her harm.

For a moment Edelgard was very still. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I'll try to slip away as early I can so we can have some time alone. Before you go."

Byleth's arms spasmed around Edelgard and she found that she couldn't speak around the lump in her throat.

Edelgard looked up, meeting her eyes. Slowly, she let her fingers trail down Byleth's cheek. "I want you all to myself tonight. All of you."

For a long moment Byleth held her gaze, staring into those violet eyes she so loved. Only when she nodded did Edelgard finally lean in and brush her lips over Byleth's.

And though Edelgard drew back, and, a minute later, rose to let Dorothea in, her warmth seemed to linger on Byleth's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was really interesting that you can't recruit Hilda for Black Eagles, especially as there are characters who are way more devout who can be recruited. Also, I know in the game if you fight her she dies, but it's so much interesting if she survives the encounter-- I figured a tiny canon divergence was worth the drama. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth navigates the Hervor ball, where faces—and intentions—are masked.

Byleth adjusted her mask and took long, even breaths to still her nerves. From two chambers away she could already hear the clamour of all the guests pouring into the imperial ball room. Were it a more formal occasion they would have proceeded by rank and been introduced one at a time, but that would defeat the purpose at a masked ball.

Steeling herself, she marched towards the ballroom. However, just before she reached the entrance, a familiar voice made her stop. "You look dashing tonight, Professor." Dorothea wore a maroon gown inset with purple silk and delicate silver detailing, the fabric seeming to pour off her curves and pool at her feet. It was the sort of gown she might have worn in one of her operas when she played some tragic princess or other. Her mask, glittering with brilliant scarlet glass beads and festooned with a rose, rested high on her cheekbones and didn't conceal the smile that graced her features as she inspected Byleth's appearance.

Byleth smiled and offered a little bow. "Thank you. And you look like a proper star of the stage."

"A retired star." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "I'm just an old war horse now after all," she said taking Byleth's arm and leading her towards the ballroom. "Has Edie seen you yet?" Byleth shook her head. "Well she's in a for a treat then."

Byleth felt herself flush. She'd donned a long, flowing tunic, deep blue like ocean waves, that the seamstress had said would bring out the colour of her eyes. The silver trim and embroidered scrollwork matched the silver eagle on her belt. Dark leggings were tucked into a pair of high leather boots that had been polished until they gleamed. She felt conspicuously shiny for someone bearing neither arms nor armour. Her mask had been painted in the same shades of silver and ocean blue. Shaped into a long wolf snout with pointed ears and a dark shaggy mane, it concealed her features far more than Dorothea's mask.

"I promised Edie I'd snag you for the first dance, since she has to wait to make her grand entrance." Byleth licked her lips and tried to reply, but the press of people around them as they moved towards the ballroom, and the gilt and glitter sparking at every glance left her mouth dry and her pulse stuttering. "Are you nervous?" Dorothea asked.

"A little. This is… a bit more intimidating than the ball at the academy."

Dorothea squeezed her arm. "Better get used to it. You're going to be attending a lot of these from now on."

They stepped through the doorway and for an instant Byleth was back at the academy, the grand hall awash with light and laughter. But while there the crowd of students had been a sea of black dress uniforms, the guests in the palace ballroom were a rainbow of coloured silk and satin and glittering jewels, every face concealed by a mask that ranged from simple to elaborate. Traditional eye-masks were festooned with glass beads that winked in the lamplight and tufts of feathers or fresh sweet-smelling flowers. Other masks, like hers, were shaped into wild creatures—a jet black elk with spiralling horns, a snarling wyvern, a coquettish white rabbit with long velvety ears.

Byleth led Dorothea onto the floor and as a waltz began to play, they settled into an easy rhythm of steps and spins. Dorothea smiled broadly. "You're as fine a dancer as you were back at the academy."

"Hopefully I won't be quite as popular here in Enbarr."

Dorothea chuckled. "I remember. The students were lining up to ask you. I counted myself lucky to have gotten a dance. You never did dance with Edie though, did you?" Byleth shook her head and Dorothea gave a little sigh. "She was wound up too tight to ask, I suppose. But I do happen to know the two of you met at the Goddess Tower."

Even now, the memory brought a smile to her face. Sothis had teased her when she'd headed to the tower, surely sensing her hope that Edelgard would be there. And then she'd teased her more afterwards. _Well well, it seems like you've made quite an impression. Who knew you could even make future emperors blush?_

"It was a lovely evening," Byleth said, still smiling. "Even though the students wore me out dancing."

While couples crowded the dance floor, groups clustered around the edges of the room, holding glasses of wine and gossiping, flirting or plotting—and in some cases all three at once. She spied Jeritza in one corner of the room watching the dancers with that unsettling stare of his. Alois, easily recognisable in spite of his mask thanks to his beard and broad grin, was twirling his wife around the dance floor. A figure in a plain black and white mask appeared to have dozed off in a chair off to one side—Linhardt probably.

And then Byleth spotted a figure in a pale pink mask, trimmed with silk petals and a brilliant fuchsia flower, her long hair flowing down her back like a veil. Byleth didn't recognise her dance partner, but Hilda was unmistakeable and her presence drained Byleth's momentary good cheer. There was work to be done. Whether she liked it or not.

"Have you spoken to Felix?" Byleth kept her tone casual, though Dorothea would understand the import of the question. She'd been tasked with informing Felix of the plan. Ferdinand was to speak with Constance. Ingrid was to inform Sylvain. And so on and so forth, so that they avoided the appearance of any grand scheme or war meeting. The plan would be spread from one person to another while they were here in the capital. And then they in turn would inform the others who'd been unable to attend.

"Yes, we had a lovely chat." Dorothea rolled her eyes. "He's as much of a conversationalist as ever, but he's looking forward to the wedding."

Byleth gave a curt nod. "Good. We'll be glad to have him." Hopefully they could muster a strong contingent in spite of the strain Fhargus was under.

The musicians finished their tune with a crescendo and then remained silent. The dancers paused and turned towards the ballroom doors as a crier announced Her Majesty, Emperor Edelgard Von Hresvelg. And Byleth couldn't tear her eyes away.

As always, Edelgard was garbed in the brilliant crimson of Adrestia's banner, but tonight's gown was more elaborate than her regular attire. The skirts were fuller, a soft silk that glided over Edelgard's body, and patterned in swirling gold scrollwork. The usual high collar she wore was absent, revealing her neck and a gold eagle pendant, though her hair remained bound in her crown as always. Long black feathers adorned her equally dark mask, which curved into the hooked beak of an eagle.

While Hilda's appearance suggested a delicateness that belied her real strength, Edelgard unflinchingly garbed herself as the eagle of Adrestia.

The crowd dipped into low curtsies and bows and they parted for her. She paused in the centre of the ballroom and waited for Ferdinand to join her. Though imperial etiquette was somewhat loosened at a masked ball, there were certain traditions to follow. As Prime Minister and thus the highest ranking nobleman in the room, Ferdinand would offer himself for her first dance of the evening. Ferdinand, in a glittering golden mask, his red hair gathered into a pony tail that flowed down his back, bowed low and then offered his hand. When she took it, the musicians began to play again and the other dancers returned to the floor.

Dorothea tugged on Byleth's arm. "Time to get you into position." Byleth nodded and together they retreated to the edge of the dance floor to wait.

It was strange watching Edelgard dancing again, much as she had that night at the academy—until Claude had, with a wink, dragged her out to dance as well. Back then she'd not been able to identity the muted desire she'd felt, the sense that, watching Edelgard spin with her partner, made her want—what? To dance? To be close to someone? To stare into someone's eyes while spinning in time with a waltz? With anyone… or with Edelgard?

But now it was very clear to Byleth that she wanted to clasp Edelgard close against her and stare into her violet eyes and spin her around the ballroom for all to see. She wanted them all to know that Edelgard had chosen her, just as Byleth had, all those years ago in the Holy Tomb, chosen Edelgard.

In a choreographed series of steps, Ferdinand led Edelgard towards the side of the room where Byleth waited, just as the musicians played the final notes. In the pause between one piece and the next, Ferdinand bowed and thanked Edelgard for the dance and stepped back just in time for Byleth to step in with a sweeping bow of her own. "May I, Your Majesty?"

Edelgard offered her hand and, as the first notes of another waltz began, Byleth pulled Edelgard against her, far closer than Ferdinand had, and began to step and turn with the music. Edelgard's smile matched her own and her violet eyes were wide and bright beneath her mask.

"I supposed half the room is wondering who you're dancing with," Byleth said, lips spreading into a grin that, with her mask, could only be called wolfish.

"I expect they are. Quite a few of ours guests have only ever heard of your exploits and wouldn't recognise you even without the mask." And then, her expression sobering. "That will change after tonight. How's your leg?"

"Healed. Not even a mark."

Edelgard nodded and then, with a glint in her eye, "I'll have to see for myself later."

Byleth's lips twitched into a smile even as goosebumps prickled her arms. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Edelgard huffed. "I'll be glad to dispense with that particular formality." After the official announcement of the engagement, she would be able to call Edelgard by her name even at public functions without it appearing as a breach of etiquette.

From the corner of her eye, Byleth spotted a flash of pink. Hilda's words from that afternoon replayed themselves. Her cynical view of the engagement, of Edelgard's plans, of the entire war. Byleth's hand tightened around Edelgard's waist. How many of the narrowed eyes, peering at them through their masks, saw what Hilda did? How many saw Edelgard not as saviour and reformer but only as conqueror? None saw Edelgard herself. No one saw only El.

Edelgard tilted her head and the hooked beak of her mask gave her the air of an eagle about to strike as she asked, "Are you nervous?"

"No. Not precisely. Only…" She licked her lips and tried to put her unease into words. "I'm not used to drawing attention to myself this way. Or to being concerned with what others think of us. It was… different… during the war."

Edelgard's right hand, still clasped in hers as they glided together across the ballroom floor, squeezed Byleth's fingers. "It was different. You'll grow accustomed to this." She tipped her face up again, dark feathers dancing against her pale hair. "To masking your true self when you stand in the public eye."

Byleth's feet moved with ease, leading Edelgard in step with the lilting notes of the music, while her tongue moved haltingly in step with her jagged thoughts. "Everyone besides our friends… they'll see me as your puppet, won't they?"

For a moment Edelgard's lips thinned to a line. She gave a curt nod. "Yes, quite likely."

Byleth knew that shouldn't matter to her. It was useful to be underestimated, to be overlooked, and yet… She'd been Rhea's puppet, the hollow vessel for her plans, and the thought that others would see her that way left a bad taste, like a mouthful of rancid wine.

"Byleth." Her gaze, which had been directed over Edelgard's shoulder, shifted to meet Edelgard's eyes. Even though her features were hidden by the black eagle's likeness, her eyes were bright with emotion. "You are my partner and my equal. You could never be simply a means to an end for me."

The musicians' bows stilled. The song ended. The final quivering notes lingered in the air as the dancers bowed and curtsied, some retiring from the floor, others ceding their partners to new arrivals. Edelgard moved to step away, but Byleth kept hold of her hand and tugged her close again. "Professor, I need to—"

"I know but…" Edelgard was the emperor. She had to dance with other nobles who surely wished for the chance to speak a word or two in the emperor's ear. But Byleth wanted to show them this was something else. Something more. Byleth gave a shake of her head, her shaggy wolf mask swaying with the movement. And then, squeezing her fingers again she fixed Edelgard with her eyes. "Dance with me too long."

For a long moment Edelgard seemed snared by Byleth's gaze, staring into her eyes. Finally she gave a slow nod and, as the music began again, danced with her longer than she should.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The engagement is officially announced, but it's Byleth's last night in Enbarr and Byleth waits for Edelgard to slip away from the Ball.

Slipping out of the ballroom without drawing attention to herself had been no small feat, but Byleth had, by and by, managed it. Edelgard had shared three dances with her before they'd agreed to part until the betrothal announcement. Rather than watch Edelgard dance with lords and ladies wishing to curry favour, or suffer invitations from curious onlookers trying to ascertain her identity, Byleth had danced with Ferdinand and with Ashe, and finally with Petra who, along with Dorothea's help, had assisted Byleth in making her escape.

It was not as clean an escape as she'd hoped, for no sooner had she managed to escape the main gallery than she was stopped by a familiar, "Good evening to you, Professor."

Her shoulders tensed but she turned and offered a little nod to the figure in an elaborate mask painted in black and gold with the pointed ears and branching horns of a stag. "Hello, Lorenz. How are you enjoying the ball?"

"It's lovely of course. Though you did cause quite a stir just now. I've had quite a few inquiries from the other Alliance—or, I should say—former Alliance nobles, about the identity of the person taking up so much of the emperor's attention."

"And I supposed they were all scandalized to learn it was one of her generals?"

He nodded. "It would be quite the scandal if a rumour weren't already circulating. If it's true then I understand I should be offering you congratulations."

It was difficult to read Lorenz's expression thanks to the mask, and his tone conveyed nothing but civility. There was no hint to what he really thought of the matter or, more importantly, whether he knew anything about his father's involvement with Lord Arundel's forces.

"We'll be announcing it shortly," Byleth said, keeping her tone light. "I came out to get some air before then."

"Well then," Lorenz said, offering a bow, "let me off you my best wishes."

"Thank you."

As he straightened, the ties of his mask loosened slightly. He fiddled with them as he spoke. "I must say it's quite a bold move on Edelgard's part. There have been rumours of her plans to eliminate the nobility for years. But elevating a commoner to the role of consort makes a clear statement that she intends to carry out her reforms."

For once Byleth was glad she was wearing a mask because she wasn't sure she could summon the calm blankness that had once been her usual expression. She kept her hands clasped behind her back so she couldn't ball them into fists. Of course Lorenz's concern would be with the fate of the nobility. And of course they would all see her as a pawn in Edelgard's political schemes. "You have nothing to worry about, Lorenz. House Gloucester fought in the war—you've proven your worth to the empire."

"Naturally. But of course house Gloucester is the foremost of the eastern territories. What of the noble houses who have not proven themelves? Surely you can't intend to erase entire lineages that stretch back a thousand years?"

Byleth snorted and turned to leave. "Perhaps you should speak to Edelgard. Since I'm only a commoner being elevated to prove a point."

"Professor wait," he said, snatching at her arm. "I meant no disrespect. Of course your contribution is unquestionable. I did not mean to imply otherwise. But others will not see it so." She turned slowly to face him once more. His eyes were wide beneath his mask, like a deer in the hunter's sights. "I only wish to advise caution. Edelgard has accomplished a great deal already and this is not the time for drastic action."

She narrowed her eyes and regarded his masked features. Was he trying to warn her of general unrest or of something he'd gotten wind of from his own territory, from his father? She didn't dare ask outright—there was too much at stake. Lorenz's family had been closely aligned with the empire to begin with and had quickly fallen in line when Claude had been defeated. He had never had to go against his homeland or his father like so many of her other companions, and so Byleth couldn't be certain where his highest loyalties lay.

"Thank you for the warning, Lorenz. I'll pass it on to Edelgard."

"Thank you, Professor. And again, my best wishes to you both."

After that Byleth took care to avoid even the _sound_ of approaching footsteps. She didn't need any more surprises today.

The corridors outside the ballroom were busy with guests and guards, but things grew quiet as she moved away from the main gallery. She was passing one of the council rooms, its door ajar, when she noticed a sliver of light pooling on the floor. With soft steps she approached and peered into the room…. only to find a lone figure hunched over a paper spread out on the table, hand moving with swift, smooth strokes over its surface.

Byleth smiled as she recognised the head of blond hair. She rapped her knuckled against the door before pushing it open. "Hello, Ignatz."

He turned, dropping his piece of charcoal and looking flustered. "Oh Professor. You—um—you startled me."

"Sorry. What are you working on?"

"Nothing really." He ducked his head away and adjusted his glasses. "Just a quick sketch to help me remember everything. So I can do a proper painting later when I get home."

He moved to roll up the sheet but Byleth leaned over his shoulder to peek at it. At the centre of the paper were two figures, one in a flowing dress, one in a smart tunic, both masked. An eagle and a wolf. Their faces were hidden, but their gazes were locked, their bodies pressed together, hands tightly clasped.

Ignatz was blushing. "I hope you don't mind, Professor. But you looked so lovely together I just had to capture it on paper."

"Of course I don't mind. I'd love to see the painting when you finish it."

"I'm sure it won't be anything special. It's still just a hobby."

She pulled out the chair next to him and sat, her eyes lingering on the sketch again. At least in Ignatz's rendition it was clear that what was going on was not a political alliance. "Have you talked to your family about it?"

He let out a long breath. "Not yet. There's been so much to do and… well it seems like there's going to be more to do in the coming months."

Byleth gave a slow nod. "Petra told you about the wedding?"

Ignatz bit his lip and nodded. "Yes. The wedding. I'll be passing by Raphael's on my way back home and I think I can get word to Leonie as well."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone again for the big event."

"Likewise," Ignatz offered with a watery smile.

For a time they exchanged news of mutual friends but when the belltower tolled midnight Byleth excused herself. She was due back in the ballroom.

She shifted and moved through the crowd of people, some already tipsy with wine, others keen-eyed observers watching for any crumb of information that might advance their agendas—whatever those might be. So many schemes. So much at stake. More than most of them knew.

Finally she reached the designated spot near the back of the ballroom and waited for Hubert to collect her. He was not wearing a mask and people parted as he moved through the clusters of guests. Their eyes followed him as he found Byleth and nodded. "It's time," was all he said. She followed without a word, keenly aware of the eyes that watched her again, just as they had when she'd danced with the emperor. Danced far longer than was proper for any mere acquaintance.

The closer they got to the centre of the room, the faster Byleth's heart thrummed, beating to a tempo all its own, heedless of the placid music drifting through the air. She took deep breaths and schooled her features. Edelgard would need her to be as steady now as she was in battle.

Hubert gave a sign to the musicians. The string players set down their bows as trio of men raised trumpets to play the emperor's fanfare. The short piece, no more than half a minute, would be familiar to anyone who'd ever attended ceremonial events at the Adrestian court. As the trumpets thundered through the tall gallery, the nobles shuffled to the sides, leaving Edelgard in the centre of the room with Hubert and Byleth to one side of her.

Once the room had fallen silent, Edelgard removed her mask, handing it off to an attendant. "Thank you all for joining me tonight." Accustomed as she was to addressing armies, Edelgard's voice easily filled the room, rising to the gallery's high ceiling. "It's been many years since we were able to celebrate properly and I am pleased to see so many faces from the far corners of Fódlan." She paused to sweep the crowd with her gaze and give a nod here and there. "As you know, the Hervor Ball commemorates my ancestor Hervor von Hresvelg and her valour in battle. And so tonight I wish to honour another whose valour in battle is unquestionable and whose service made possible our victory against the corrupt Church of Seiros and it servants."

The crowd seemed to be holding its breath. Byleth stepped forward. A fit of murmurs swept through the crowd and then died away like a retreating wave as Byleth crossed the floor to Edelgard and knelt before her.

"Please remove your mask," Edelgard said.

Keeping her eyes on the floor, Byleth slipped the mask off her face. An attendant appeared to take it from her and then vanished back into the crowd. There was her heart again, thrumming against her ribs, but she schooled her features into a mask of calm. And then Edelgard's voice was ringing through the ballroom once more.

"I wish to formally introduce the future emperor-consort, General Byleth Eisner."

If there was any reaction from the assembled guests, Byleth couldn't hear it over the pounding pulse in her ears. Her eyes remained on the floor until she saw Edelgard's hand stretching down to her. "Rise, Byleth, and stand at my side."

Byleth reached for her hand and, as Edelgard squeezed her fingers and drew Byleth up next to her, Byleth's heart soared.

#

The remainder of the ball was something of a blur. Her friends did a fine job of sweeping her up in their midst to save her from the tidal wave of gossip, schemes, and favour-seeking that threatened to engulf her the moment her betrothal to the emperor was made public. And since her friends included the Prime Minister, the Minister of Household, and several generals, no one was inclined to force their way past them.

It was a full hour before she was able to make her escape and finally sink into a chair in the bedroom— _their_ bedroom. She tugged off her boots and draped her flowing tunic over the back of the chair before propping her chin on her fist and closing her eyes. The weight of the evening and all its consequence settled on her like a suit of plated armour. Everything would be different now. From this point forward she was a member of Enbarr's court. She was no longer simply one of Edelgard's generals. She would be part of the nobles' machinations, someone they had to account for, someone they would try to manipulate.

She dozed off for a time because the next thing she was aware of were footsteps in the private sitting room. Straightening, she glanced towards the door just as Edelgard swept into the bedroom, still donning her black eagle mask and the crimson gown with its lush gold scrollwork. Byleth's lips curled into a smile as she could finally let her eyes linger on Edelgard in all her splendour. She took in her slim frame and the curve of her hips, the cascade of silk skirts and long sleeves that disguised the steely muscle and sinew that made up Edelgard's body. And the mask, soft-feathered but with the curved, sharp beak, the reminder that the eagle's majesty and beauty did not make it less deadly. That was what the nobles saw. They would never have the chance to see beneath that mask.

"This is what you call slipping out early?" Byleth said, her smile taking a decidedly lopsided turn.

Edelgard heaved a sigh. "It's the best I could manage. The ball usually lasts until dawn."

Byleth watched as Edelgard removed her crown and meticulously unbound her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders and down her back as it had at the academy. "You're staring," Edelgard said, a pink flush visible beneath the edges of her mask.

"I didn't get to tell you how lovely you looked tonight."

"You looked very fine as well." She stripped off her gloves and then reached behind her for the gold necklace, fumbling with the clasp for a moment before successfully removing it. Byleth drank in the sight of her skin, the graceful line of her neck, the ridge of her collar bone now whole and healed, the glint of the violet stone in the ring on her left hand. "I may need your help with the dress. I already dismissed my attendants for the night and I'd hate to call them back now."

Byleth stood. "El."

"Hm?" Edelgard stopped and turned to glance at her as she approached.

"The mask." Edelgard held very still as Byleth reached out and hooked her finger beneath the curved beak of the mask and carefully slid it off. She tossed it aside so she could cup Edelgard's face in her hands and finally look at her properly, her thumbs stroking Edelgard's flushed cheeks.

"Byleth," Edelgard murmured before leaning in and pressing their lips together. Byleth wanted to drink in the warmth of her, that feverish heat she'd lost along with her crest. But Edelgard's lips were demanding, unrelenting, and Byleth could only pull her tightly against her and kiss her until they were breathless.

Edelgard drew back, panting, and her fingers began to tug at the laces of Byleth's shirt. They paused when they touched a silver chain. Byleth's heart skipped as those nimble fingers lingered over her skin a moment before tugging the pendant out of her shirt. The silver eagle gleamed on its chain, as brilliant as the day Byleth had received it with a note wishing her happy birthday from Edelgard and the Black Eagles. "You still wear it," Edelgard said, a tiny smile on her lips.

"Of course. I like to keep my Black Eagles close to me. And… it was from you."

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on the silver eagle. "I loved you even then," she said, the faintest tremor in her voice. "In spite of everything. In spite of _reason_. I…"

Byleth wrapped her hand around Edelgard's fingers, still clutching the pendant, and pressed them against her heart that beat now as it never had at the academy. "I know." And then she kissed Edelgard the way she never could have then, all those years ago when she'd been her teacher, and not quite human, when she'd lived a half-life and had only been learning what it meant to live and to lose and to love. In that strange state between human and goddess could she have loved Edelgard the way she did now? Loved the softness of her lips, the way Edelgard's fingers tangled in her hair and roved down her neck to rest on the exposed skin of her chest, the way her closeness made Byleth's heart hammer and her body ache?

This time when they broke apart Edelgard's eyes flitted up to hers before darting away again. "The dress," she mumbled, her face turning a similar shade of crimson. "You need to help me out of this dress."

She turned and Byleth regarded with horror the long line of ties on the back of her gown. She reached out and tried to tug at them with hands that were suddenly unsteady. Byleth groaned. "This might take a bit."

Edelgard huffed. "My attendants can manage it in under two minutes."

Byleth chuckled and tried to settle her nerves. "I'm afraid I've never undressed an emperor before."

"What an egregious gap in your credentials, General Eisner. We should rectify that if you're going to be the emperor-consort."

Taking a deep breath she grasped the topmost lace and tugged at it to loosen the knot. Her hands were shaking. "I'll see to that immediately, Your Majesty." She tugged the lace through the first eyelet. "I don't suppose I could just cut you loose?"

"Tempting. But I would never hear the end of it from the seamstresses."

"In that case," Byleth said, leaning close and brushing her lips over Edelgard's neck, "I suppose you'll just have to be patient." Edelgard made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a groan.

After a few knots, Byleth's hands began to cooperate and she busied herself with pressing kisses to Edelgard's jaw and neck as she slowly worked her way down the line of her dress. All the while, Edelgard's pulse raced beneath her lips.

Finally Byleth loosed the last dreaded knot and was able to peel the dress away from Edelgard's shoulders. Edelgard shivered when Byleth's fingers brushed against her spine as she gently pushed the fabric loose and let the gown slide down her body to pool on the floor in a silky puddle, leaving Edelgard in only her underthings.

Edelgard turned and pressed her mouth to Byleth's and there was something ferocious and raw in how she tugged her closer as if she could erase all the obstacles that had ever stood between them with the heat of her body and the strength of her embrace.

And then they shed all that was left until there were no more masks, just their skin and their scars, and the touch of the one they loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And since this story is only rated 'T' this is where it fades to black. ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth leaves Enbarr to begin her journey to find Claude.

"— _fessor_."

The chime of Dorothea's melodic voice brought Byleth back to herself. "Hm?"

Dorothea had brought her horse alongside Byleth's and her lips were curled into a mischievous smile. "You're awfully distracted today, Professor. Something on your mind? Or perhaps some _one_?"

Byleth flushed in spite of her best efforts to remain cool and composed. Because it was true. Since she'd left Enbarr that afternoon, all she could think about was Edelgard.

Edelgard in her arms, her warm skin pressed to hers in the late morning sunlight that slanted into their bedroom. No one rose early the day after the Hervor ball so they were able to sleep late and then remain in their chambers as long as they wished. An attendant had left breakfast outside the door and Byleth slunk out to retrieve it and then returned to bed with her prize: a platter of rich pastries. They devoured honey biscuits, marzipan cakes, cinnamon fruit tarts, and chocolate stuffed rolls with wild abandon.

And then they lounged in bed while Edelgard's inquisitive fingers sought out every scar. "What about these ones?" Edelgard asked as her fingertips paused over a cluster of jagged lines above Byleth's left hip.

"It was the first time I faced a wyvern in battle. It was faster than I expected."

Edelgard winced in sympathy. Her fingers climbed the rungs of Byleth's ribs and then slid across her chest until they came to rest between her breasts, on the stark white line in the centre of her chest, above her heart. Her beating heart.

Byleth covered Edelgard's hand with her own. Could she feel the way the beating grew faster beneath her fingers? Edelgard needed no explanation for that scar; Byleth had told her about Rhea's handiwork, how she had at once saved Byleth's life but made her somehow not-quite alive. That scar lived with her as much as the ones Edelgard bore from her surgeries. They were the mark of what had been done to them, of the things that had made them who they were and that had, ultimately, brought them together.

"We're the same," Byleth whispered.

Edelgard raised herself to look into Byleth's eyes for a long moment. And when words failed her, she leaned down and kissed Byleth. Byleth let her hand slide down the curve of Edelgard's spine, taking in that expanse of warm, smooth skin, as Edelgard stole her breath away, and made her heart skip and bound like a wyvern taking flight, wings beating the air until it soared. And tough Byleth had striven all these years to make herself more than an empty vessel, she was happy to lose herself in the softness of Edelgard's touch.

And then by early afternoon she'd been in the saddle, riding away from Enbarr, her back to what she loved the most and an uncertain road before her. Petra had not commented on her taciturn demeanour, but Dorothea was, of course, another matter.

It was a relief when Petra drew up her horse alongside them. "Professor," she said in a low tone, "I am thinking that we are being followed."

Byleth flushed; she hadn't noticed, so distracted had been she since leaving Enbarr. But Petra was an excellent tracker and hunter and Byleth trusted her senses implicitly. "That's to be expected. I suppose Arundel wants to know what I'm really up to. I doubt they’ll interfere once they realize I'm not headed east."

"I do wonder where Hilda is actually headed," Dorothea said. "I suppose she doesn't intend to visit Brigid."

Byleth shook her head. "Unlikely." Hilda's note had instructed Byleth to meet her in the port town of Mannin, by the ship Grey-Dawn, which happened to be the ship Dorothea and Petra were due to take to Brigid. She turned then to Petra. "I do hope to be able to visit Brigid one day. Once things settle down we'll be able to formalize Brigid's new relationship with the empire."

Petra gave curt nod, but Byleth could see how her eyes shone. After all, she had finally won her homeland's freedom. "I am looking ahead to that." And then, turning to Dorothea, "I also have much excitement that I will finally be showing you my homeland." There was no disguising the joy radiating from her features as she spoke.

Dorothea smiled warmly. "I'm looking forward to it too."

Petra patted her horse's neck, her smile as wide as Byleth had ever seen it. The reins rested easily in Petra's other hand and, in spite of the knowledge that they were being tracked, there was a giddiness about her as she spoke of home. "I will show you the woods where I was learning to hunt as a child. The trees there are as old as the empire and you can be hearing their spirits whisper if you speak their names. And of course I will make your introductions to my grandfather."

Dorothea's eyebrows shot up. "The king? Oh my. Well I guess after spending so much time around Edie I should be used to kings and queens and emperors by now." She paused, her brow furrowing. "Will I need to use a special title for you while I'm there? You are a princess after all."

Petra shook her head resolutely, her hair dancing around her like a horse's mane. "No. I will not have you using ceremonies for me. My grandfather is 'Your Majesty', but to you I am always Petra."

Dorothea's hand flew to her heart and her eyes were bright. Byleth smiled even as her heart ached as she thought of Edelgard, of how much of their relationship, their true selves, always had to be hidden, to be masked due to the complexity of the Adrestian court and all the reforms Edelgard wished to push through. Petra in contrast had already overcome the greatest obstacles to her rule when she'd gained Edelgard's favour and become one of her wartime generals. Edelgard's battles were far from over. It would be a long time until, as she'd said that day in the Goddess Tower, it would be just the two of them.

Byleth gave herself a shake and turned to Dorothea. "What will you do in Brigid?"

Dorothea dabbed at her eyes, still misty as she turned her gaze away from Petra. "I suppose I'll have to spend most of my time learning the language, but besides that I'd like to see what Brigid's music and theatre are like."

Petra tilted her head. "You will be finding it very different from the opera. We have many songs of the hunt and songs to the spirits of our land and much singing of our great warriors."

"Well in that case," Dorothea said, a laugh like burbling waters tumbling from her lips, "there should be a song about you."

"Me?"

Dorothea beamed. "Yes, you. You're the hero of Brigid."

"She's right you know," Byleth chimed in before Petra could protest. "You're the liberator of your people. I'm sure that's worthy of song."

Petra shook her head. "Only if that song is including all of you. Brigid is free because Fódlan is free from the Children of the Goddess. It is because all of us together."

Leaning over in the saddle, Dorothea reached out to rest her hand on Petra's shoulder. "Then I'll just have to write an aria about all of us."

Byleth smiled, but her thoughts had already returned to Enbarr. Though Fódlan was free from the Children of the Goddess, its people wouldn't be truly free until those who slither in the dark were conquered as well.

"Professor." Petra's voice, serious once more, returned Byleth to the present. "If you are not going to Brigid then you will be travelling with Hilda. Please use care, Professor. I do not have trust with Hilda. At the academy she was often shedding lizard tears."

"Lizard tears?" Byleth repeated.

"Tears that are untrue," Petra clarified.

Byleth nodded. " _Oh._ Crocodile tears."

"Petra's right, Professor. You should be careful. " Dorothea frowned. "If there's any chance Hilda is working with Arundel or Count Gloucester…"

For a minute Byleth mulled over this possibility, but she couldn't dismiss the flash of anger on Hilda's face when she's spoken of the battle of Derdriu, and her obvious protectiveness of Claude. No, her loyalty was to Claude not to Arundel or to whoever was pulling strings in the former Alliance.

They travelled until evening, sleeping at a cozy inn, and rose early to ride the rest of the way to Mannin. Though not quite as sprawling as Derdriu, Mannin was a bustling hub of activity, a mix of soldiers, sailors, and merchants. A fort housing a permanent detachment of the Adrestian army, loomed over the town, casting a block shadow across the sea. Adrestia's navy patrolled these waters, always on the lookout for Dagdan hostility, even years after the war's end.

When they reached the Grey-Dawn, Hilda was waiting on the dock with a travel pack and an immense axe strapped to her back. "Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind."

Byleth's gaze flitted between Hilda and the ship as Petra and Dorothea hesitated behind her. "Are we going to Brigid then?"

"Nope," Hilda said, flashing a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Brigid's just the first stop. We'll be staying on for a while longer." Byleth glanced at her friends who were eyeing Hilda warily. "All right," Byleth said slowly. "Well I guess we should all board the ship and get settled in."

"Sounds good," Hilda said cheerfully and then turned on her heel and marched up the ship's gangplank.

The trip to Brigid was a short one, only a day and by the following afternoon they had reached its vividly green shores and its largest port of Cuánn. Though Byleth had run into her at mealtime, Hilda had given no clue as to their ultimate destination. From speaking with the crew she gathered that the ship would take on cargo in Brigid and then continue northward up the west coast of Fódlan, stopping at all the Faerghus Ports to deliver goods and passengers.

Dorothea and Petra disembarked in Cuánn with many warm wishes and the fervent promise that they would be back for the wedding. As Byleth watched them disappear into the milling crowds of Cuánn, she noticed Hilda leaning over the ship's deck rail, scanning the crowds on the dock as if searching for someone.

Byleth moved to join her. "Expecting someone?"

"Maybe."

Some minutes later she appeared to find what she was looking for she moved to greet a cloaked figure at the gangplank who was talking in low tones with the crewman responsible for boarding passengers. Once he'd settled his business with the crew the figure joined Hilda on the deck of the ship. Only then did he draw back his hood.

"Hello, Teach. Long time no see." Grinning impishly as if they were back at the academy, was Claude von Riegan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing a couple of fic exchanges right now while also trying to juggle Strive so we'll see how that goes. I have a few chapters to post but may not get back to actively working on this story until my vacation in December.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to win Claude's trust, Byleth must face an old opponent and put her life on the line.

As she Leaned against the deck rail, Byleth's gaze lingered on the vast expanse of blue waters stretching out to the western horizon. She'd been told that her eyes were like the ocean: blue and deep and featureless.

Gulls cried overhead. Crewmen called to each other as they manned the sails. Golden sunlight warmed her skin even as the salty spray of the wind cooled her cheeks and mussed her hair. The day was alive and bright and beautiful. And yet it couldn't penetrate the gloom that had settled over Byleth. She yearned to be back in Enbarr, to be by Edelgard's side again. It was like nothing she'd felt before but she thought this must be what people called homesickness.

And while the others might be accustomed to her absence thanks to her five year sleep, for Byleth it was the first time she'd been parted from her Black Eagles, from Edelgard.

She heard Claude's boots on the deck before he came to stand to next to her. "Hey there, Teach. You look a little glum. Pining after your lady-love?"

"Something like that." She managed to keep her expression neutral. She wasn't about to let Claude goad her into giving away anything that she didn't intend to. He had always had a knack for honing in on chinks in people's armour. The first day they'd met, he'd managed to make Edelgard snipe at him by calling her naïve. Byleth supposed it had been a bid to make Edelgard appear more childish, more temperamental than she truly was, probably to steer Byleth away from her. It hadn't worked.

Claude liked to travel in style it seemed for he'd secured himself a private cabin, which was quite a luxury on such a ship. They'd squeezed in together, Byleth and Hilda occupying the berth and Claude perched on the bench opposite them that doubled as a storage chest. There was just enough room for them to sit facing each other without their feet quite touching.

"Isn't this cozy," Claude had said, his lips curling into a smile that reeked of insincerity.

And then with the dank below-deck air choking her lungs and the wooden walls pressing in around her like a casket, Byleth had told her story. She'd relayed the details that she could, about Arundel's manipulation of events in Adrestia and the Kingdom, and of the mages' experimentation, though she left out the details of what they'd done to Edelgard. And she told him about Rhea's own manipulation of Fódlan, the way she'd shaped Church credos and hidden her true identity to remain in power all this time. And finally of how they suspected that one of the lords of the former Alliance was allied with Arundel.

Claude had remained silent the whole time, his expression one of mild interest, as if Byleth were relaying an amusing anecdote from their school days—rather than an exposition on the secret history of Fódlan. And then he'd thanked her for the information and told her cheerfully that he'd get back to her.

A full day later she still had no idea where they were headed—besides north—and whether Claude was even considering assisting her.

She kept her eyes on wide blue waters. "Fódlan needs your help, Claude."

Claude laughed. "Oh no, you can't foist that on me again. Fódlan's not my concern anymore, remember? You and Edelgard wanted it for yourselves. Now it's your responsibility."

"Do you not care at all about the people of the Alliance?" she said placidly. She could play this game as well as him. "About your friends?"

"I didn't say that. But you can't expect me to just drop everything and come to the rescue. I'm in the middle of… Well I suppose you could call it research."

A gull screeched overhead and Byleth resisted the urge to do the same. He was baiting her—she was sure of it. "Then shouldn't you be in the library?"

"Field research," he amended. "You know, before the war I was trying to learn as much as I could about the relics. I think you know as well as I do that the Church's version wasn't entirely accurate."

Byleth frowned. The relics had never been her main focus. No, her main concern had been understanding what Rhea had done to her, but she did remember what Edelgard had said about the Elites and her ancestor's complicity with Seiros. "The relics were created by the Ten Elites and wielded against Seiros. She killed them to reclaim them."

"Is _that_ the story you got?" Claude rubbed his chin. "Interesting. So you don't go in for Rhea's version that the Elites were corrupted by power of the relics?"

Byleth's heart—that beating thing that had come to life after Rhea had lost hers—seemed to strain against her ribs. "All Rhea ever did was lie to me. To _everyone_. Why would I believe anything she said?"

"Even so, that doesn't answer the question of what the relics really are. How were they made? And what's their relationship to the crest stones?"

Byleth darted a glace at Claude. He no longer looked like the cunning tactician, silver-tongued and slippery, but like an adventurer who'd uncovered a treasure map. He seemed… excited. "You found something didn't you?"

He flashed a grin. "I found a lot of things. Especially in the Abyss library. You know about the banned books, don't you?" She nodded. "I found some interesting tidbits. Including a scholar who was certain the relics were made of bone. Something like wyvern bones, but larger, stronger."

Goosebumps prickled Byleth's skin. _Rhea's bones are missing._

"And when you and Edelgard attacked Garreg Mach and the archbishop transformed into the Immaculate One right there for all the world to see… Well she was definitely larger and stronger than a wyvern."

Edelgard had said that Arundel's forces had made Aymr and that they'd wanted the bones from the Holy Tomb. But the relics were centuries old. Surely those who slither in the dark couldn't have made those ancient weapons? Surely their grudge against the children of the goddess couldn't stretch that far back?

"Well you get the idea, Teach. I can see it on your face."

Byleth kept her mouth firmly shut lest she look like a fish on a hook—because she certainly felt like one, and it was Claude who was holding the reel.

From the corner of her eye Byleth noticed one of the crewmen pause, his hand on the rigging, and stare at something behind her. Hilda must have come up on deck. And indeed her soft tread approached a moment later. "Oh good, I'm here for story-time," she said before settling herself against the railing next to Claude. "Don't stop on my account."

Claude nodded to her and then continued. "As it happens, I found a lead about some ruins in the Sreng desert."

Byleth's peered at Claude in confusion. Sreng was off the northeastern coast, the opposite side of the continent from Brigid. "If you're goal is Sreng then we're headed the wrong way."

"No, that ship had definitely sailed. Hilda and I already investigated the ruins. And when we got there we found—"

"A monster," Hilda supplied with a shudder. "I go to all the trouble of recovering from my war wounds and what does he do but drag me out to fight a giant talking monster."

Byleth glanced up at this, her brow furrowed. "Demonic beasts don't normally have the power of speech."

Claude shook his head. "No, don't you see? It wasn't a demonic beast. It was like the Immaculate One."

Byleth froze. For a long moment all she could hear was the creaking of the ship's masts and the thrum of her own pulse. "You met one of the children of the goddess?"

"The site was rumoured to be associated with Saint Macuil. So, knowing that Rhea was Seiros…" He shrugged and put on a jovial grin. "Don't worry, you don't have to hunt him down. He's not interested in coming back to Fódlan. In fact he seemed to have quite a grudge against the Ten Elites and their descendants. He wasn't very forthcoming about the relics and crests."

"He tried to eat us," Hilda said flatly.

Claude laughed. "That could have gone better, I admit. But there's another avenue of investigation I'd like to pursue. Tell me, have you ever heard the legend of Lake Teutates?"

"Oh you mean about Saint Indech and the guardian of the lake."

Claude raised a hand, palm outward. "Wait, don't tell me you've already been to Lake Teutates? And you met its legendary guardian?"

"Yes, it was Linhardt's idea."

Claude slumped back against the ship's hull. "Well that just took the wind out of my sails."

Hilda leaned around Claude. "So did you…" She made a cutting motion across her throat.

Frowning, Byleth tilted her head and peered at her. "Did I what?"

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Finish him off."

"No," Byleth said. "There was no need for that. We defeated him, he gave us a special bow, and then he sank back into the lake."

Claude groaned, shoulders slumping. "Teach, your lack of curiosity is just unnatural."

Byleth only shrugged. She wasn't about to explain to him that she'd been a shell of a human being and had had other more pressing questions to answer.

"Well," Claude said with a shrug, "I guess there's nothing to do but pay him another visit." And that was all she got out of him that day.

#

The journey up the coast of Faerghus took several days and Claude seemed determined to pick Byleth's brain at every opportunity while giving away nothing of his own plans. So instead, she took to spending her time with the ship's crew. She made a point of shaking their hands so they would feel the callouses on her palm. She diced with them during their free hours and never quit playing during a winning streak. And she talked to them about the war, how they'd made out during the years when Faerghus had been restricting trade with the Empire, and what their prospects were now that the war was over but much of the north was in shambles.

Claude was no more forthcoming when they made landfall. They procured horses with the intention of riding inland to Lake Teutates but were soon hampered by an early spring blizzard that left the roads impassible for days. It wasn't until the first week of Great Tree Moon that they were able to set out again. And all the while Claude refused to speak of anything of substance. He was all charm and smiles, asking after his former schoolmates and the general goings-on of Enbarr, but when she tried to broach the subject of those who slither in the dark, he would evade or distract, or simply shrug and leave.

The days spent cooped up during the storm passed slowly and Byleth ached to return to Enbarr. There she had friends, people who cared about her, who trusted her. She wanted to be back with them, with Ferdinand and his eternal optimism and Hubert with his dour efficiency. She wanted to hear Bernadetta's familiar shrieks of alarm and Caspar's battle cries from the training ground. She wanted to listen to Linhardt's meandering theories and Constance's grandiose plans. And most of all she yearned to be close to Edelgard, to hear Edelgard speak her name as no one else did. She wanted to rest her hands on Edelgard's scars while Edelgard listened to the thump of her heart.

When the roads became passable—barely—she was eager to get moving again if only because the discomfort of travel was a distraction from homesickness.

"Well isn't this a fine start to the new year," Claude said as the blank white of the overcast sky dissolved into frigid drizzle.

Byleth's lips thinned to a line but she remained quiet. Days like this she missed the Crest of Flames, how it had always kept her warm. The damp cold seeped into her bones, seeming to settle in her marrow and gnaw her from the inside out.

She should have been in Enbarr attending the new year's celebration of the founding of the Adrestian Empire. With her friends. With Edelgard. She'd been told the celebrations in Enbarr were elaborate, a week of feasting, processions, and performances. Byleth could imagine herself in the warm dining hall, ablaze with lanternlight, the air filled with chatter and music, the scents of wine and seasoned meats wafting to her nostrils. And Edelgard, next to her, glancing her way when no one was looking. And after the feasting and the music, Edelgard in her arms, her warmth wrapping around her like a quilt.

Instead, she was in the saddle, chilled to the bone, the sky spitting down on them as their horses slogged through the slushy remains of the snowstorm.

Hilda tugged her hood lower. "I can't believe I let you drag me up here. Did you know it was going to be this miserable in Great Tree Moon?"

Claude shrugged. "I've never been to Faerghus in spring. Besides, I thought you were enjoying a little vacation from Holst."

"This isn't quite what comes to mind when you say 'vacation'."

Like everything else lately, their easy banter made Byleth ache for home, for the people who cared for her.

The drizzle continued through the morning as they made slow progress towards Lake Teutates. Once they were close she insisted they tie off their horses and continue on foot. These were not war steeds and couldn't be trusted not to bolt when they saw a giant monster rise out of the lake.

The trek was miserable. They were up to their knees in slush and it soaked into her pantlegs and infiltrated her boots so that by the time they reached the shoreline her feet and ankles were like blocks of ice affixed to her legs. In the distance, the dark waters of the lake stirred with the perpetual drizzle, but ice still clung around the ruins in a ragged sheet that groaned under the weight of the melting snow. The stone path leading to the central plinth of the temple was slippery beneath the melting snow and ice, and Byleth took slow, cautious steps, sword drawn in case the phantoms that had attacked them last time should reappear.

She froze in place when a voice rumbled through the air like crashing waves. "You've returned. I was not expecting such foolishness from one such as you."

"We’ve come to speak with you," she called out.

Ice shattered in a spray of jagged shards as Indech's spiked shell broke the surface of the frigid lake. His horned head crested the water a moment later, ice and snow sliding off his steely scales.

"Would you look at that," Claude murmured.

"Do I have to?" Hilda grumbled.

The stones trembled beneath Byleth's boots as Indech stepped onto the temple platform, his limbs, thick as columns, easily raising his bulk out of the lake. Rivulets of water poured over the curve of his shell and trickled down his horns. His neck stretched towards them and his cavernous black eyes fixed on Byleth. "You are different." Indech's gravelly voice trembled through the air. "I no longer sense the power of Sothis in you."

"You're right," she said though the truth of it ached like the numbing cold of the lake water. "I've relinquished all her power."

"Your companions are different."

"Yes." Byleth's eye darted to Claude and Hilda, off to one side. "They were students at the officers academy when I was a professor there." She didn't dare call them friends. If she had known what was to come perhaps she would have cultivated her relationship with him more as she had with some of the other students from Deer house. But Claude had always been so secretive, his agenda and motives as much a mystery as Edelgard's had been to all but Byleth and Hubert.

Indech's eyes were like the black of a moonless night. "I have no more treasures for you to claim. What is it you desire?"

Hand clenching the hilt of the Sword of the Creator, Byleth let out a long breath. The blade in her hand felt heavy. It would no longer glow for her. It no longer had life. It was only a sword. A strange, saw-toothed blade, unyielding, unbreakable, but still only a sword. And yet, it was hers, it was a part of who she'd been, just as Sothis had. She could almost here the goddess chiding her as she had of old. _Stop wasting time. Say what you must and be done with it._

"We wish to know the truth about the Heroes' Relics. Where do they really come from? Who crafted them?"

Indech snorted and twin gouts of steam shot from his nostrils and condensed in the cold air. "You ask for something far greater than a mere treasure."

"You were there, weren't you? We must know the truth of what happened. We've been lied to for long enough."

"And you would dare to face me again, weak as you are now?"

Byleth raised her sword. "Yes."

"Then you alone must face my trial."

"Why alone?" Claude asked.

She couldn't tell whether Indech's black globe eyes turned to look at Claude or remained fixed on her. "She has chosen to walk alone, without the power of Sothis and so she must face my trial alone."

A shiver coursed down her spine. One misstep and Indech could crush her and she would never be back in Edelgard's arms. The last time, she had come here with a small army. To defeat him in her current state was unthinkable. She needed Claude's favour—it was true. But perhaps he'd also been right about her lack of curiosity. If she'd been more human then she could perhaps have learned some of Rhea's secrets directly. It was too late to ask her now. If Indech held the answers then she would face him, even if she couldn't win.

"I accept," she said and raised the sword.

"Very well."

Byleth wasted no time. She tore across the slippery stone floor, circling around to his left even as magical jets of water crashed down on the stones where she'd been standing moments ago. A whoosh of air told her he'd swivelled his horned head to look behind him. She raced around his left flank, pausing only when she was behind the pillar-like leg. Two-handed, she raised her sword and slashed across the thick hide of the limb. The blade left a thin slice, barely more than a paper cut.

The long reptilian tail whipped towards her and Byleth made a desperate dive out of its path. She righted herself and sent a small fireball skidding across the surface of Indech's hide. His front limb pounded on the temple floor, sending a shockwave through the ancient stones and making her stumble. Byleth rolled away before his water magic could come sluicing down on her and crush her against the frigid stone.

"Why do you persist in this course of action? You are nought but a child of man now."

Byleth scrambled to her feet and kept moving. "Even so, I must fight."

She feinted to the right and then, as he swung his massive head around, turned back towards him to strike at the underside of his long neck. The Sword of the Creator, deadened as it was, still pierced his hide, if only just.

His jaws snapped closeby, but again, she dodged away, moving beneath his shell and emerging behind one front limb to strike again. His voiced rumbled like thunder so close was she to his body. "You are as a buzzing insect. No matter how many times you sting, I remain and have only to swat you away."

This time she wasn't quite fast enough. A jet of water surged to her left and caught her on the arm, cold piercing her like white flame. She stumbled but regained her footing and kept moving. A thin trace of blood that trickled down the length of her arm. "Is that what we are to your kind? Insects to be swatted when we become a bother? That was Rhea's view."

Steam shot from his nostrils. "How can you have been the chosen of Sothis and still know so little?"

She used his momentary distraction to rake his hide with her blade. Her left arm ached where she'd been struck but she gritted her teeth and dodged away before he could strike. "How can I be expected to know anything when all I've been told are lies?"

This time when his limbs stomped against the stone temple floor she couldn't keep her footing. She skidded on the icy tiles, unable to get moving before Indech's head swung towards her, slamming into her and sending her flying.

Something cracked when she hit the floor. Pain exploded in her side, sending white spots dancing in her vision. But the Sword of the Creator was still gripped in her hands. She pressed its tip into the floor and used it to lever herself up, her breath coming raggedly. She had to get back up, had to keep moving. She had to get back to Edelgard.

For an instant she thought she was seeing things as a blur of movement whipped through her spotty sightline. She blinked hard and tried to clear her vision. A second blur—an arrow!

"I think this fight's a little unfair." It was Claude's voice, off to the side somewhere. "Let's even up the odds a bit, shall we?"

"I suppose the emperor wouldn't be too happy if we let the professor get stomped," added Hilda, and then she was racing towards Indech, axe raised.

Indech let out a snort of annoyance as an arrow buried itself in his nose. His jaws snapped at Hilda and he got a mouthful of her axe.

Byleth managed to stand up straight but kept her grip on the sword. "Claude, what are you—"

"Just because we were on different sides in the war doesn't mean we're going to let you get flattened."

Indech paused. His head swivelled in Claude's direction. "You were not companions in the war?"

Claude arched an eyebrow. "No. I was the leader of the Leicester Alliance. Teach here defeated my forces and then spared my life."

Though Indech had paused in his attack, Byleth straightened and prepared herself for another onslaught.

"You would set your differences aside to come here?"

"I'm not one to hold a grudge," Claude said cheerfully. "Especially not when Teach was willing to help me learn the truth about the relics."

Indech regarded them for a long moment and then the dark orbs of his eyes came to rest on Byleth. "You lack your former strength but you retain the ability to make the children of men follow you." He huffed, a puff of steam hovering in the frigid air. "I will tell you what you wish to know."

"Thank you," Byleth croaked.

Hilda set down her axe, shoulders sagging with relief. Claude ambled over to where Byleth remained leaning on her sword, blood dribbling down her arm to pool around her boots. "Okay there, Teach?"

She gave a curt nod. A cracked rib and an oozing gash on her arm. Unremarkable injuries. And unremarkable was all she seemed to be anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indech unfolds the true history of Fódlan.

The sky spat on them in a grey drizzle as they stood in the ruined temple waiting for Indech to speak. Byleth ached in every fibre of her being but remained as stony-faced as she had ever been as the Ashen Demon. Back when she'd been strong and special. And empty.

For a minute Indech's eyes closed. When they reopened, his gaze fixed on them, close enough now that Byleth could see their three human figures reflected in miniature in Indech's black globe eyes. "Long ago Sothis descended from the stars." His voice was like the scraping of ancient stones crumbling down a mountainside. "From her own blood she created her children, the Nabateans. She bestowed on us the ability to take the shape of the children of men who lived on this land so that we might converse as equals. For many centuries we lived together in an age of wonders long forgotten. But the children of men grew ambitious and quarrelsome. They formed the nation of Agartha and claimed that they too would reach out their hands to touch the stars. No matter the consequences."

Agartha. She had heard that name before on the lips of one of Arundel's mages. The one she and Yuri had found beneath Enbarr. The restoration of Agartha, he had said…

"They warred with the goddess herself," Indech continued, "And their war scorched the earth until even they were only dust, save for a few who fled belowground. The goddess used all of her power to restore the land. It took many ages. And then, spent, she fell into a deep sleep."

"She was…asleep?" Byleth thought of the child-like being she had known, constantly yawning and nodding off, bleary and unable to remember her own name when they had first met.

"We laid her to rest in a holy sepulchre that she might sleep undisturbed."

"The Holy Tomb," Byleth said.

Indech bobbed his horned head. "Yes. We built the city of Zanado so that we might watch over her tomb. We lived quietly. The surviving humans slowly rebuilt the world. Some of us left Zanado to travel the land and see this new world. But after many ages a bandit breached the holy sepulchre and stole the heart of the goddess. And from her blood and bones he gained great power."

"Hold on," Claude cut in. "What do you mean 'stole the heart of the goddess'? You don't mean that literally, do you?"

But Byleth's mouth was dry and her own heart was racing, her fist clenched over the scar on her chest. Indech turned to her. "Can you not guess? You once possessed that same power."

"The crest stone," Byleth managed, though it was barely more than a strangled whisper. "The crest stone was… her heart."

Claude's brow furrowed and he stroked the bristle on his chin. "Surely you're not saying that the crest stone are all…"

"They are created from the remains of my people after we perish," Indech rumbled.

The human heart thudding in Byleth's chest made her aching side burn and white spots dance in her vision again. Nausea twisted her gut and she inhaled sharply to keep her stomach in place. Sothis's heart. The stone had been Sothis's heart… placed against her own, unbeating heart.

"Eww," Hilda said. "So all the relics have these… dead hearts in them? Well that's the last time Holst is ever going to get me use Freikugel." The Goneril relic. Hilda had been wielding it when they'd fought at Derdriu and it had rivalled Aymr in sheer might. But Aymr was not a true relic—it had no stone. No heart. Something else gave it power, some sort of artificial crest stone made by Arundel's mages.

Claude shook his head. "But if the stones are made from your people's hearts then that means the relics themselves…"

Indech's foot stomped the floor, making it trembling beneath Byleth's feet. She drew in a sharp breath as pain shot up her side, and she gripped her sword to keep herself standing. "What you call relics are weapons forged from the bones of my kin. The crests you bear, from our blood."

"How?" Byleth choked out.

"The bandit called himself Nemesis and returned with an army to slaughter the inhabitants of Zanado. From their corpses our enemies made the weapons and used their blood to create men with great power. You know them as the Ten Elites."

"But the Elites were _heroes_ ," Hilda said. "And the crests were gifts from the goddess. That's what the teachings of Seiros recorded. But you're saying Lady Rhea… what? Made it all up?"

Indech blinked slowly but did not answer. "We fought Nemesis and his armies for many years. Seiros defeated him at the Tailtean Plains and reclaimed the sword crafted from Sothis's remains."

"The Sword of the Creator." Byleth's voice quavered. Her stomach roiled. Her hand was wrapped around Sothis's bones. Sothis's heart had been buried in her body.

Byleth tried to stop her mind's eye from seeing it, but it was all too clear to her now. The goddess's body, not the slim human form Byleth had known, but an immense and terrifying white beast like Rhea, lying in the Holy Tomb, in a profound slumber. And Nemesis, carving the heart from her chest. Just as Rhea had threatened to do to her when Byleth had stepped between Rhea and Edelgard.

Claude was stroking the fuzz on his chin. "Rhea—or Seiros rather—must have created the story of the Ten Elites to keep their descendants in line. She wouldn't want anyone to know about her people and get ideas about tracking them down to harvest their blood," he continued with a grimace. "If the crests were a gift then from the goddess then the crest families had to be beholden to the Church."

But Byleth's thoughts were still turned to the tomb, to its contents. "I don't understand," she croaked. "How did Nemesis reach the Holy Tomb? There's a… mechanism… of some sort you have to activate to enter the tomb. And how did he make the crest stone? And the relics?"

Indech let out a long breath. "We suspected he must have had allies, allies who knew of the goddess and the tomb."

"Do you mean the Agarthans?" Claude asked.

"Perhaps. Either way, we believed that we had defeated them during the war."

"But you didn't," Byleth said quietly. "They'd just retreated to the shadows. Biding their time."

"So it appears," Indech conceded. He let out a long breath of air, a damp wind blowing over the humans at his feet. "And what will you do now that I've answered your questions?"

Ignoring the ache of her injuries, and the revulsion that still writhed in her gut, Byleth gripped the Sword of the Creator and turned away from Indech, towards the path that would lead her back to shore. "I'm going to put an end to the people who created the relics."

#

It was well after dark when Byleth made her way out of the inn where she and her not-quite-comrades were staying.

Claude and Hilda had still been in the common room in deep discussion when she'd trudged up to bed, feeling like she was wearing a suit of plate armour. The village had no healer trained in magic so it was the local herbalist who'd patched her up, stitching together the gash and then offering a balm to ease the soreness of her cracked rib. It helped just enough that she was able to doze off. But her fitful sleep had been filled with flames and bone-white blades, and beating hearts.

_Is this the world you wanted to create?_

The words were still echoing in her thoughts when she'd started awake and decided to get some air.

Byleth tugged up the collar of her coat and a chill spring wind whipped past her. She didn't go far, just to the nearest pasture where she would have space. She drew her sword—her regular sword—from its sheathe, taking comfort in the familiar creak of the leather. The faint glow of moonlight glinted off the length of the sharpened steel. A simple blade, made of metal and wood, crafted by human hands, and as plain and fallible and she was. The sword could chip, it could rust, it could break. It was only a sword as she was only human.

She moved through the sword forms Jeralt had taught her all those years ago when she'd been so small that she'd barely come up past his knee. She'd been easy to teach, hollow as she'd been then.

Her side ached when she moved to the left but she ignored the ache and let her body sink into the familiar rhythm of swordwork. If only her mind could do the same. Her racing thoughts dashed between disgust, dismay, and outrage. She had carried the goddess's _heart_. It was almost too much to bear. But the rest… That Rhea had rewritten Fódlan's history, burying the truth so thoroughly the even the descendants of the first Adrestian emperor had not held on to the truth. Edelgard had told her the dispute with Nemesis was only a border skirmish that had escalated into a war. But neither her account nor the Church's gave any hint of the real story. An entire history invented to control the people of Fódlan, to keep them under Rhea's thumb all these long centuries.

Yet slicing the air to ribbons did little to ease the outrange the blossomed in her chest, roiling through her blood like fire, the more she thought on it. She paused, and, without turning said, "You can come out anytime, Claude."

"Hey, Teach. Nice night for a walk, huh?"

She sheathed her sword and turned to face him. He had a smile on his lips, as he usually did, though it never seemed to reach his eyes. "If by walk you mean following people and skulking in the shadows."

He shrugged. "I saw you heading out and wondered where you were off to so late."

"I needed some air."

"After a day like today I can't say I blame you. Finding out the entire history of the continent was a lie is lot to swallow."

Something like a growl poured between Byleth's gritted teeth. "She had no right."

"Who?"

"Rhea," Byleth snarled. "Rhea denied us the right to know our own history. We have a right to know the crimes our ancestors committed. If you don't know your past you can't change your future. You're doomed to repeat the same errors."

"I suppose that's why she stayed on as head of the Church—to _guide_ the people of Fódlan."

"She had no _right_!" Byleth barked.

If her vehemence surprised Claude he didn't show it. Tilting his head, Claude peered at her with a bemused expression. "The victor makes the rules. You should know that better than anyone."

She felt the barb but brushed it off. Edelgard had offered people the truth, not a dogma she'd invented for her own purposes. Edelgard shared Rhea's blood, but she wished to free the people of Fódlan, not to keep them caged like so many rabid hounds. Rhea and Edelgard were not the same.

Byleth stilled and fixed her gaze on Claude, her anger cooling into something shaped and sharp, like a quenched blade. "In that case are you finally ready to hear my proposal?"

"I'm listening."

She gave a curt nod. "In Derdriu you were able to summon the Almyran navy. That means you're from the Almyran ruling class. Likely a member of the royal family."

He grinned. "I may have some clout with the king."

"Relations between Almyra and Fódlan have been strained."

That earned a hearty laugh from Claude. "Have you been taking diplomacy lessons, Teach? The people of Fódlan think Almyra a land of murderous barbarians. Mostly thanks to the Church's teachings about outsiders."

Byleth raised an eyebrow. "And because of the regular raids your forces launch against Fódlan's Locket."

"Almyrans believe they have to prove themselves in battle. Fódlan's become their traditional proving ground. But I'm sure you can put in a good word for us. Since you have the ear of the emperor—among other things."

She shot him a withering look and then pressed on with the speech she'd prepared. "Edelgard would like to open talks with Almyra. We'd begin with trade and move gradually to opening the border. Isn't this what you want for your people? You said Edelgard's ideals weren't so different from yours."

"Negotiations would've been a smidgeon easier if I'd been the one to come out on top."

Byleth's anger flickered again, a tongue of flame that raced up her spine. "You'd have left the Church intact. Everyone would still believe the doctrines about outsiders."

He shrugged. "We could have reformed those doctrines. Especially if you'd become the archbishop."

"Me?" Byleth said, at a loss. She knew so little of the Church and its workings—it would be absurd to imagine herself in the role of archbishop.

"Rhea was grooming you to be her successor, wasn't she? Since you'd been granted the power of the goddess and all."

Byleth snorted. No, Rhea had been grooming her to become the goddess herself, the vessel into which Sothis would pour her consciousness and erase Byleth's will. Rhea had been hoping for a resurrected goddess, not a successor.

Claude was peering at her again with undisguised curiosity. "What did Rhea do to get under your skin, Teach? You didn't side with the empire just for Edelgard, did you? There was something else…."

Byleth let her anger grow steely-cold once more. Claude didn't have the right to know about her unbeating heart, about her mother, about Rhea's experiments. "I'm here to offer your people a chance to negotiate a treaty with Adrestia. Are you game or not, Claude Von Riegan?"

"All right, all right, Teach. I can bring my people to the table. But you haven't told me what you want first."

She gave a curt nod. "We believe Count Gloucester is working with Arundel. If we move against Arundel, Gloucester may retaliate and can't afford to lose access to former Alliance territories. Gloucester is an ally and the most powerful lord in the eastern region. We can't act openly against him. But you…"

"Ah of course. Since I'm an outsider it wouldn't look like I'm advancing your agenda."

"We don't need troops or military action. Just something to disrupt his grip on the former Alliance territories, enough so that he can't rally support and we can deal with Arundel's faction without interference."

He rubbed his chin, a rueful smile spreading on his face. "I think I have something that just might do the trick. But I'll need to stop by Garreg Mach and pay a visit to the Abyss Library."

Byleth nodded. "All right. I can give you a letter of authorization so you won't have to sneak in."

"You're taking all the fun out of it, Teach," he quipped but he had narrowed his eyes and was watching her with keen interest. "But if you're not coming along then what are you going to be up to?"

Her heart thrummed in her chest, where the goddess's own heart had once resided. Byleth's lips thinned to a line. "There's something else I need to see to."

Even in death Rhea was still a problem, a problem Byleth could no longer afford to ignore.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth returns to Fhirdiad to investigate the rumours surrounding the Immaculate One's remains.

The wet chill weather made the journey to Fhirdiad miserable and slow thanks to roads that were by turns icy and muddy. And all the while Byleth knew she was riding _further_ from Enbarr, from everything she cared for. If she could have commissioned a wyvern or pegasus to speed up her journey she would have, but they were not common in the small towns and villages she passed on the way. If Arianrhod had not been destroyed in the war she could have detoured there and pressed one into service from House Rowe but the javelins of light had wrought such destruction on the fortress that it was no more than an abandoned ruin now. At least she'd been able to find a healer after a few days of riding so her ribs were whole again.

She was wet and sore and miserable when Fhirdiad finally rose on the horizon, its castle's toppled north tower like a jagged wound, open to the sky.

Her chest tightened and for a minute it was hard to breathe. She hated this place, hated what had happened here. And yet it was also where her heart had begun to beat for the first time. In a way it was her birthplace, the place she had been reborn as a regular human being. As her horse clomped ever closer to the city gates, Byleth tried to tear her mind away from the battle and the fire and the scorched flesh of the Immaculate One… and instead remember waking in Edelgard's arms, her tears turning to relieved laughter as Byleth opened her eyes.

She hesitated only a moment at the gates. And then, steeling herself, Byleth urged her horse forward.

It was… not as bad as she remembered. Drawing in a deep breath, her nostrils filled with the smell of damp wood and horse manure. The charred scent was gone. Much of the rubble from the destroyed buildings had been cleared in the months since she'd last been here. In the distance, closer to the castle ruins, new timber structures had been raised though the outskirts of the city remained populated by a mix of surviving buildings and squat, temporary lean-tos and sheds. The faces looking up as she rode past were thin and tired and she hoped the promised supplies from Enbarr had arrived.

Off to the west the sun was beginning to slant low, but there was still time before dusk, so Byleth steeled herself and made her way towards the palace ruins.

The surviving portions of the palace had been used to house the Imperial troops who remained in Fhirdiad and were tasked with helping with the rebuilding efforts and protecting the city and its environs as the knights once had. A pair of sentries were stationed at the entrance to the makeshift barracks. "State your business," one of them said in a clipped tone. He looked like some of her students had at the academy—barely old enough to grow scruff on his chin.

"I'm General Eisner," Byleth said. "Let me through." The sentries looked at each other in confusion. They were simple footmen and so young that it was entirely possible that they'd never seen battle during the war, perhaps part of reserve regiment formed during the final push. Byleth sighed. "Is Captain Delluth here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Go fetch her. She can confirm who I am."

She waited, still in the saddle, as one of the sentries hurried off and the other one cast her anxious sideways glances. As soon as Delluth arrived she offered Byleth a formal bow. "General Eisner," she said. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We weren't expecting you."

Byleth gave a curt nod. "I understand." She waited until they were through the gate to dismount and say more. "Captain, can you have someone see to my horse? I need to inspect the special storage room."

"Of course," Delluth said, though she blanched at the mention of the room. The captain had been among the group involved in moving the remains and knew exactly what Byleth could expect to see.

Delluth escorted Byleth to the storage room and gave a nod to the guard at the door before hastily excusing herself. Byleth didn't blame her. The guard used a key from his belt to unlock the door for her and then stepped away—far away, several paces down the corridor. Byleth took a deep breath. And then she threw open the door.

The smell hit her like a stormy breaker, washing over her and filling all her senses. That sour meaty stench and the charred ashy scent combined into something putrid. It was suffocating but she forced herself to step into the room and drink down the foul air. Bile rose in her throat but she tamped down on her lurching stomach. She hadn't stopped to eat before coming for this very reason.

In the centre of the chamber, rested the Immaculate One's fire-blackened skull, grimacing at her. In the centre of its brow was a deep gouge where Byleth and Edelgard had struck the final blow that had ended Rhea's life.

Byleth paused to light the lantern hanging by the door and then shut the door behind her. She then slowly made her way around the periphery of the room lighting the lanterns in each wall sconce until light flickered throughout the chamber, casting ghastly shadows that grasped and clawed at Byleth like phantom imps.

The bones that had been picked clean of flesh were piled in the corners of the room like blackened tree limbs. The bits that were partially intact were clumped together near the skull. Bits of the Immaculate One. Of Rhea.

Byleth had grown up on the battlefield. She had seen comrades cleaved into pieces by axes, skulls crushed by maces, limbs sheared off by swords. She was accustomed to carnage. But there was something disconcerting about the scene, the helter-skelter arrangement of the remains, like an immense and gruesome puzzle.

Grimacing, she circled the remains until she spotted the curve of a rib, and then another. She followed their arcs until she located the sternum. Leaning close to get a better look, she was hit again by the charred meaty smell and her throat closed for a moment. She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus on the spot she was looking at, not on the larger whole and what it had been. The signs of tampering were obvious, incisions in the blackened flesh. These weren't scars from the battle. They were neat and precise, and made after the fire had crisped the out layer of skin and muscle. The incisions opened into the chest cavity.

For a minute Byleth shut her eyes, trying to calm the pounding of that heart that had beat its first the moment Rhea's had beat its last. She had to do this, had to be sure. She withdrew from her belt pouch a pair of gloves and pulled them on. And then, with a grunt, she plunged her hand into the incision. She reached into Rhea's chest, searching for her heart as Rhea must once have done to Byleth's mother, as she had, in turn, done to Byleth.

Jaw clamped tight, Byleth let her fingers follow the path of the incision. It cut deep into the flesh and ended in a cavernous void. Rhea's heart was gone.

Byleth yanked her hand back and tore off the gloves, throwing them across the room in disgust. Something welled up inside her, some mix of frustration and despair and disgust. Hands balled into fists, body trembling with emotions that burned through her like acid in her veins, Byleth thought she would burst.

A bellow ripped out of Byleth's throat. The echo bouncing back as if the chamber walls were roaring in return.

For a moment she stood there, panting, fists still clenched. It was too much—all of this was too much. They'd defeated Rhea but now in death she would become a weapon for the very people who'd wanted to destroy her. Byleth spun to face the monstrous grimacing skull, empty blackened eye sockets staring down at her. "You had no right!" she shouted at the bones. "No right to do any of it. What you did to Fódlan. What you did _to me_!"

She had concealed the truth. Manipulated everyone, controlled them for a thousand years. She had denied them the knowledge of their people's crimes, and of the chance to cut their own path. And in doing so she had made them all vulnerable to the manipulations of another ancient force. And now she would be their weapon.

Byleth couldn’t fathom what they would do with the heart, with the crest stone they would fashion from it and the bones and flesh they had gathered. It would be the crest stone of Seiros and Edelgard was the only person who carried that crest. If Arundel wasn't making a weapon for Edelgard then what did he hope to create? Another monster? Something worse than the Immaculate One? Or could he use the stone to power some other weapon, like the javelins of light that had destroyed Arianrhod?

Her blood was still seething a minute later when the door creaked open. She turned, expecting the guard, but her hand flew to her sword hilt when she saw only a blur of movement and dark shapes.

Drawing her sword, Byleth put her back to the skull and scanned the room. Three of them, all in dark armour and helmets that covered their faces. She had seen their like before in the Sealed Forest. These were Arundel's forces.

"Did Thales send you?" she demanded. "I didn't think he'd grown so brazen." They circled her from the edges of the room like a pack of scavengers waiting to descend on a dying beast.

"Oh he'll learn of this," one of the figures responded. "When we bring him your head."

Byleth snorted and nimbly dodged an arrow and raised her blade to block a throwing knife. "Who are you really? Are you Agarthans?"

The closest figure hissed. "Do not speak that name. You sully it with your tongue, lowly beast. You're not longer the Fell Star. You are nothing."

Byleth's eyes narrowed. They were right; she wasn't what she had once been. But she thought of her students, those who had braved the war without crests. Dorothea who could set an enemy ablaze from half a league away. Caspar who could knock a man senseless with a single blow of his bare fist. Petra whose blade was a quick as a lightning strike.

It was true that she no longer had inhuman strength, or the power to turn back time, or a relic that glowed red in her hands and could fell entire armies. But what she did have was years of training and experience. Perhaps she was no longer special, but she was certainly not nothing.

Her lips curled into a mirthless smile. "You've made a terrible mistake." She raised her sword. "You came with only three of you."

And after that she let her blade speak for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Yuletide assignment is done so hopefully I can make some progress on this story while I have a little time off.
> 
> If anyone hasn't heard of Yuletide it's AO3's December fic exchange for small fandoms. It's always fun to go through the tags after reveal day and see what teeny tiny fandoms you happen to love have gotten new fics thanks to this event. :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth struggles with the weight of her discoveries about Rhea and the children of the goddess.

**Eighteen**

Byleth was wiping the blood from her blade when the sound of rapid footfalls in the corridor drew her attention. She easily sidestepped the razor-sharp gust of air magic and readied her sword again only to hear a familiar yelp. "Yikes! Sorry, Professor. I thought you were one of the bad guys."

"Annette, look before you lob," chided another familiar voice a moment before Lysithea appeared in the doorway.

Byleth found that she was too tired to be particularly surprised. "What are you doing here?" she asked with the sort of calm she'd had back at the academy.

"Captain Delluth sent a message that you were here," Annette said. "And when we saw the guard on the floor out there we were afraid something had happened."

"Something clearly did happen," Lysithea said as she peered down at onc of Byleth's attackers, now facedown on the stone floor in a puddle of blood. His own.

Byleth nodded. "Some of Arundel's men with a little too much initiative." She had cut them down one by one. Quickly. Efficiently. She did not need the power of Sothis in order to be deadly. "They must have spies here, keeping watch on this chamber." She fixed her attention on Lysithea. "But what are _you_ doing in Enbarr?"

"The same thing as you, I imagine."

Annette was looking pale, her nose wrinkled. "Do you think we could talk somewhere else? Anywhere else?"

They gathered up the injured guard and then informed Captain Delluth of what had happened and the three bodies that would need to be disposed of. Now that the rush of battle had ebbed away she felt sore and tried, her anger from earlier drained away. She was the Ashen Demon again, empty with exhaustion.

Annette, chipper as ever, tugged on her arm. "Why don't you come to the Royal School of Sorcery? Mercedes will make you some tea. I'm sure that will perk you up, Professor."

Too tired to protest, Byleth only nodded.

Night had settled over Fhirdiad, mercifully concealing the rubble and ruin, the too-thin faces. Annette chattered about how surprised she'd been to see Lysithea arrive two days earlier and then to see the professor, and apologised several times for being absent from the ball. "There's just so much to do here. People keep showing up at the school asking if we have supplies or material or all sorts of things—last week someone was asking if we could get them a lathe."

Byleth nodded along, but her limbs felt heavy and there was a dull ache welling up in her temples. It was a relief when Annette ushered them through the School of Sorcery and to a little sitting room where Byleth was finally able to collapse into a padded chair. A few minutes later Mercedes arrived carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea and a plate of scones.

"It's so good to see you, Professor," she said as she began serving the tea and scones. "You look like you've had a long day."

Byleth offered a thin smile. "Very."

"I wish I could have baked you some sweets but I'm afraid we only have ingredients for scones and biscuits."

"Of course," Byleth said with a nod. "Supplies from Enbarr are on the way."

"We've been trying to ration out the foodstuffs we have," Annette said. She paused to sip her tea but then hissed. "Oh! Hot!"

"Take your time, Annie," Mercedes said, shaking her head even as she smiled fondly. "The tea isn't going to sprout wings and fly away."

Byleth took a deep breath. "Tell me about the rationing."

While Annette talked, Byleth munched on her scone and sipped the fruity tea Mercedes had poured for her. Food and drink eased the heaviness in her limbs and the dull throb in her head. She did her best to absorb all she could as Annette spoke of shortages, of the city's orphans who were staying in the school's dormitories, of the repairs to the city's water system, and the thieves who'd been caught attempting to loot the castle ruins. Enbarr received reports of course but there were things that weren't conveyed by reports, things you only learned face to face.

Byleth asked questions and let Annette and Mercedes talk. When the teapot was empty and the scones reduced to crumbs, they showed her to one of the dorm rooms and told her to get some rest. And though she was eager to do just that, when Lysithea asked if she could have a word in private Byleth steeled herself and nodded.

The room was much like her room at Garreg Mach had been, a single bed and a little writing desk in the corner. Lysithea took the chair and Byleth dropped down onto the bed, chagrined that she could only sit on it.

"I assume," Lysithea said without preamble, "you were here to inspect the remains and the interference with them?"

Byleth nodded. "That's right. And you?"

Head propped up on her fist, Lysithea paused a moment before she spoke. "You know Linhardt's been attempting to assist me with my… problem. He wanted to take a closer look at the remains to confirm his latest theory but he didn't think he could stomach doing it himself."

This earned a chuckled from Byleth. "No, I don't imagine he could." After half a decade of war, Linhardt still got woozy at the sight of blood. It was impossible to imagine him being able to stay on his feet, let alone carry on any sort of analysis, under such ghastly conditions.

"He thinks there's a connection between the children of the goddess and the crests. He said, and I quote, 'We're told the goddess bestowed the crests upon humankind. However, given what we now know about the children of the goddess, I believe we can surmise otherwise.'"

"You do a very fine Linhardt impression. So what does he surmise?" Byleth asked though her innards roiled. She knew where the crests came from. Through an ancient inheritance of blood and slaughter.

"He said that Rhea carried the crest of Seiros. But now we know that Rhea _is_ Seiros. And since the emperors of Adrestia carry that crest either the first emperor would have to have been one of her descendants, which isn't supported by any known history, or that she was able to grant the crest to Wilhelm I herself without the intervention of the goddess. That in turn suggests that the crests don't originate with the goddess but with the children of the goddess. That they're inherent properties of the children of the goddess."

A weary smile curved Byleth's lips. Linhardt's deductions were so often on the mark it was positively uncanny. "Blood," she said quietly. "The crests come from the blood of children of the goddess." She pressed her hand over her heart, thinking of the other way to gain a crest. Was it only possible because her crest had belonged to Sothis herself? Was that the only reason it hadn't turned her into a monster, but only into a hollow shell?

Lysithea tilted her head. "You've learned something?"

"A few things but I…" She could still hear Indech's gravelly voice recounting the slaughter of his people. "I need to think on it for a while. Before I can discuss it. I don't think any of it would help remove your second crest."

"I understand, Professor. Maybe we can talk more when we're back in Enbarr. Are you planning to stay here for a while?"

Byleth shook her head. "No, I've learned what I needed to." Her heart seemed to constrict when she thought of Edelgard's crest of Seiros and the gaping hole in Rhea's—in Seiros's—chest. What could Arundel do with it? What could he do to Edelgard. "And I've been away too long already."

#

Fhirdiad was burning. The heat singed Byleth's flesh, the smoke stinging her eyes and choking her lungs. The paving stones beneath her feet shook with the roar of the Immaculate One, like thunder rolling through the crumbling city.

But this time the Immaculate One was no longer immaculate. Her hide had been seared black. In places it crumbled away revealing stark white ribs and all the vertebrae of her neck, and the bony plates of her skull. When she looked down on Byleth it was with empty eye sockets.

The skeletal jaws opened wide but even without a tongue, the words rang clearly, like grating metal shredding Byleth's eardrums. "Is this the world you wanted to create?"

She stood before Rhea, ready to strike. The Sword of the Creator was in her hands but it writhed in her grip, twisting and bending like a serpent caught in her grasp. Beads of blood oozed out of tiny cracks in the blade's surface and slid down the blade's spine. The sword had been alive and now it was dead, just as Rhea was.

The Immaculate One's massive skull loomed over her, all teeth and empty eyes. When Rhea roared, her breath was a wave of heat, blowing back Byleth's hair, and stealing every drop of moisture. She felt herself blister and crack, ready to crumble like the charred flesh from Rhea's bones. But she would not.

"What about you?" Byleth roared. "Was _this_ the world you wanted to create? A world rife with poverty and war and rebellion?"

The skull clacked its teeth together. "This war is your doing."

"I grew up as a mercenary. There was always war. Always needless fighting and death."

"The years have not cured humanity of its folly."

Edelgard had been by her side when Rhea had spoken those words before. But now Byleth was alone, fury making her heart pound when before her heart had been as still as any corpse's. " _Our_ folly? How could we know our folly when you kept it from us? You left us ignorant and expected us to change?"

"You betrayed me! You betrayed my mother!"

"You enslaved us. You used us like pawns."

Byleth raised the Sword of the Creator to strike a final blow on Rhea's talking bones, but the sword squirmed and slithered out of her grasp. She stood alone in the flames, without the sword, without Sothis's power, without Edelgard.

The monstrous skull fell upon her.

#

Byleth shot upright, heart pounding like it wished to scale her throat and escape. Her clothes were soaked in sweat in spite of the coolness of the room. The darkness was almost as complete as the empty sockets of Rhea's skull.

She lit the lantern by her bed and spent a long while trying to still her breathing and calm her racing heart. In the morning the would set out for Enbarr. She needed to get back to Edelgard. And somehow they would have to decide to what to do with this newfound knowledge.


End file.
